Cirrus@Austlit

'This collection has come about from ten years of experimenting with poetic form, and the poems have grown with me through PhD candidature, moving out of home, getting married, and various travel adventures. The motivation behind each poem was essentially some act of exploration, of following an instinct by layering language until I arrived at a poetic text that rang true in my mind. The poems are at times speculative and fictional, but extend to the personal and autobiographical. Brought together under the title Infinite Ends, the collection's main preoccupations are the elegiac, the ekphrastic, poems of place centred on Lake Monger, Perth, Japan, Burma and elsewhere, and the classic and contemporary monuments that bridge our collective consciousness.' (Publication summary)

'Francis Webb’s Ward Two is based on Webb’s hospitalisation for schizophrenia in Paramatta in the 1960s, and was the first Australian poetic sequence concerned with the experience of being institutionalised for mental illness. Whilst anti-psychiatrists condemn the harmful influence of psychiatry, and the social model of disability suggests that disability is a social construction, the poetry of Ward Two holds up the nuances of the institution, the society surrounding it and the disabilities suffered by those within. Through a dry, self-deprecating tone characteristic of mid-century Australian poets, and setting himself apart from the Romantics and American confessionals, Webb represents his speaker and other patients as holy, artistic and transcendental. Although the lines are self-consciously ironic, their sonic effects also suggest, in sincere celebration, that the psychiatric subjects have some spiritual quality that others lack. In this liminal space, those condemned by society – the mad, the gay and the mentally disabled – can recover their identities, thoughts and language, even through the process of losing them. While Foucault wrote that psychiatry is a monologue by reason about madness, Webb’s poetry is a monologue about madness by both reason and unreason, as his surrealist lines have the inventive leaps that align it with unreason, but they also have the calm mode of address and high order linguistics to align it with reason. This affords it a unique position through which it can speak about mental illness that sets it apart from the pathologising language of psychiatry, and the romanticising language of anti-psychiatry. I argue that Webb’s poems, synthesising beauty and pain through imagery, rhyme and metaphor, can depict the subtleties of the schizophrenic mind, and the harmful and healing aspects of psychiatry and the institution.' (Publication abstract)

'Australian poet TT.O. has been working on his latest epic poem, Heide, for about eight years. Heide the spiritual heart of Australian modernism in both poetry and art circles. The work marries times — past, present, and futures. It shows connections between art, politics, history, anarchism, poetry, struggles, the military, and his earlier works. It ranges across numerous biographies, and stands back to locate the whole in its epic grandeur; from the building of Melbourne as a city, to the establishment of its politics, art practice, poetry, and psychology. All the parts fit together, even when they fly off in different directions. It contains world history in both its writing and references. It takes off from where the Ern Malley Hoax bludgeoned Australian poetry into submission.' (Introduction)

'Anne Elvey’s White on White and Reneé Pettitt-Schipp’s The Sky Runs Right Through Us both offer ideas of unsettlement in contemporary Australia; Elvey’s is the unsettlement brought by the arrival of colonists, whereas Pettitt-Schipp explores the unsettlement associated with denying arrival. In White on White, Elvey explores the limitations and downfalls of colonialism, and the paradoxical act of ‘building a falling’ that settlement represents. Despite its title, the collection is about the co-existence of whiteness and colour, as in the line, ‘On my desk the whiteout / is shelved beside the pens’. This line is also telling as it is about imprints and markings existing beside modes of erasure. In the prose poem ‘School days’, readers are introduced to the speaker’s skin that is ‘peach and cream with a blue undernote […] the colour of my soul’, which a ‘drop of ink’ would mortally stain. Here, Elvey invokes a thread running through the collection: the potential for ink, the medium for writing and textuality, to be fraught with sin and moral complications. At these moments, readers may reflect on the fact that it was white settlers who brought written language to Australia, with all of its blessings and burdens.' (Introduction)