Cirrus@Austlit

'I am reminded of Doris Salcedo’s Shibboleth. For the work Salcedo broke a hairline crack into the floor of the Tate Gallery’s Turbine Hall. Running the sheer length of the hall, the crack broadened out to a crevasse of some feet. You walked alongside and gaped in. The floor was later repaired the cracks remain. So Elif Sezen’s ‘we / rather remain silent / as if ripping off the tree roots from its soil’. The effects of these words are quieter. But there’s a rent in the language of our familiar utterance – shouldn’t it be ‘ripping up’? – all the same. We rip off when deceiving others of their rightful share. And we find ourselves ripping tree roots off the soil in lands where there’s little for our plantations to take hold of. It’s dusty and even inimical to those with little history there, the rip-off merchants who in the state of Victoria, for instance, pioneered for the future nation the forcible removal of indigenous children from their families. The example spread, but the city of Melbourne is particularly built on it.' (Introduction)

'I do not wish to attach gendered words to poetry: male or female, homo or hetero sexual – such labels give me the same heavy feeling as when taking stock of excessive items I unwittingly burden myself with on a long journey. Yet I also hear a difference in the stories that seem to originate from and flow into the experiences of female authors.'

'In mid-August 2016, I was in Adelaide to read poetry with Kent MacCarter and others as a guest of Ken Bolton’s ‘Lee Marvin Readings’ series at the Australian Experimental Art Foundation. Over a couple of days, Kent, Ken and I had some expansive conversations including one about how much we loved various works by Michel Butor, the great French experimental writer. Just over a week later we heard the sad news that Michel Butor had died on 24 August at the age of 89.' (Introduction)

'The following poems are excerpted from Nikos Nomikos’s Σημειωμένες Διαφάνειες (Noted Transparencies), a collection of thirty poem-vignettes originally published in Greek in 2003. This translation is the first installment of a larger translation project aimed at bringing Nomikos’s poetry to the attention of the wider English-speaking literary community in Australia.' (Introduction)

'Omar Musa’s debut novel Here Come the Dogs was swiftly met with critical acclaim, even long-listed for the Miles Franklin award, after its publication in 2014. Praised for its searing language and smooth slippages between poetry and prose, Here Come the Dogs simmers and seethes above a burner of references to Australia’s thriving hip hop culture – its artists, lyrics, language and debates – a culture Musa himself is deeply involved in. Musa, an Australian-Malaysian multidisciplinary artist has previously published two books of poetry, The Clocks and Parang, as well as released multiple hip hop albums and performed internationally on slam poetry stages, including TEDx at the Sydney Opera House. Two years after Here Come the Dogs, we’ve now witnessed the release of Musa’s EP Dead Centre and his return to the hip hop stage. Musa’s hip hop lyricism is no less crafted than the poetry he’s penned. Performing and publishing across a range of artistic mediums, the threads connecting Musa’s oeuvre are strong: searing political commentary, disenfranchised and displaced youth, passion for art in all of its varied forms, and always a solid sense of self.' (Introduction)