Cirrus@Austlit

'In late 2020, I casually asked Alvin Pang—newly graduated with a PhD in Creative Writing—if he might now have the time and willingness to guest edit the poetry for an issue of Rabbit. Based in Singapore, Alvin would be our first international poetry editor. He wrote back immediately to accept, and proposed ‘Asia’ as the theme. I shouldn’t have been surprised by this proposal—such an ambitious theme captured something of Alvin’s general approach to poetry: wide-ranging, provocative and generous. Asia-as-theme is a conundrum, irreducible and boundary-less as a poem itself.' (Jessica L Wilkinson: Editorial introduction)

'When Matthew Hall and Chi Tran—our guest poetry editors for this issue—proposed the theme of ‘Lineages’, I started to think of poetry inheritance, a poetry family tree, what my own might look like. I thought of the poets I studied (or was made to study) in high school and who made me reluctant to continue reading poetry. I thought of the poets introduced to me by mentors who understood my tastes, the poetry that opened up possibilities for my reading and writing future. I thought of the poets whose work stretched my own lines, whom I have followed so closely that I feel their words and rhythms in my blood and bones. It is rare that we come across that last category. For me, there are two poets whose work I hold close—one American, one Australian. For those of you who have been reading my editorials for the last few years, you can probably guess who they are. Not only responsible for fuelling my curiosity and experimentation, these poets have also had the effect of giving me permission to find my own voice in and through poetry. Whether they like it or not, I consider them to be kin.

'One of the great pleasures for me as managing editor of Rabbit has been to read the responses of contributors to the ‘Rabbit question’ for each issue, which is linked to the issue theme. When this requirement was set up from issue one, it was intended to encourage all those who submitted poems to demonstrate their appreciation for poetry more broadly, ahead of the desire to send through poems quickly in the hope of getting published. But the responses from those who are selected for publication, printed in the back pages of each Rabbit, are also a way to share poetry knowledge to readers, to suggest poets or poems that may not have been known to some readers, to share tastes and reading lists. I like to see that some contributors are able to sum up their thoughts in very few words—sometimes just one!—while others commit to a generous rumination.

'The question for this ‘Lineages’ issue is: What is something you have learned from a poem/poet that you’d like to pass on to others? From the thoughtful answers printed at the back, I can see that many poets have located their own poetry kin, as I have done. More than this, it seems that they have drawn strength from that kin not only to guide their own writing practice but also to guide the living of a good life. How marvellous!

—Jessica L. Wilkinson' (Editorial)

'Political Pasts, Political Futures, Political Poems

'Bob Hawke sculling a beer, Paul Keating touching the Queen, the man floating in an inflatable pool ring in an episode of The Simpsons. George Bush and Bill Clinton and the first time I understood the word fellatio. Skits on The Comedy Company and Fast Forward and grotesque caricatures in newspapers. When I was growing up in rural Australia, ‘politics’—as it was relayed to me—seemed like the house for big jokes and absurdities. Secrecy, too, seemed like a key attribute—at primary school, I was told that it was impolite to ask an adult whom they were voting for in the next election. And we were made to remember the list of Australian Prime Ministers but not to engage with what they stood for, nor to understand current policies and debates that would have an impact on our futures. I wish I had asked more questions.' (Jessica L. Wilkinson, Editorial introduction)

'When tension overwhelms my muscles, I get a massage. I love massages, especially when the masseuse gets in there really deep. It doesn’t always relieve the aches and pains of a tight neck (too much stooping over editorials), but it’s an indulgence I return to frequently.' (Jessica L. Wilkinson, Editorial)

'Not knowing how to start this editorial, I lazily google ‘belong’. A grossly simplified e-dictionary pops up to tell me that ‘belong’ comes from Middle English: ‘be-’ + an archaic form of ‘long’. But rather than investigate longen like the diligent researcher I should be, I am temporarily sidetracked; I think intensely about ‘being long’, consider stretching out on the ground, pointing my toes, elongating my spine, straightening my fingers. I think about being the longest me I can be.' (Jessica Wilkinson Editorial introduction)

'I know next to nothing about sport. At school competitions, I was the freckly redhead hiding in the shade with a string of green stars on her score sheet (green = ‘not good’, as in ‘last place’). I’d throw a shot-put a full arm’s length and my one attempt at javelin gave me a bruise on the back of my head. I was the kid who was picked last for a team, that kid who got winded by a flying softball, and who conjured fake periods to get out of swimming class.' (Editorial introduction)
 

'Remembering the subpar poems I penned during my own youth - full of angst, longing  and with an oddly persistent bent towards mythological appropriation - I am stunned by the maturity and originality of the poems published in this issue of Rabbit. These young writers demonstrate not only a heightened awareness of what language can do  - sonically, rhythmically, meaningfully - as it moves across lines, but also an astonishing capacity for personal, social, cultural and political insight. As 'nonfiction poetry, these poems tell me that their authors are engaged with the world in ways that matter, whether that be on a relatively small scale (via inspecting the feet of one's father) or on a large scale (taking part in a major political protest). It is heartening to know that such sensitive and perceptive poems are being written by the next generation of poets.' (Jessica Wilkinson : Editorial introduction) 

'It has been tremendous to have the opportunity, given to us by Jessica, to read and select the poems that made it into this edition of Rabbit. Being a part of this project through my Master's degree in writing and publishing at RMIT has allowed me to feel once again the frightening excitement of caring deeply about the outcome of a piece, a poem, a short list. I read poetry, I write it, and I am invested in seeing others develop their own, so weighing in on the long and short list of this edition has been a privilege I have not wasted.' (Rachael Nielsen : Poetry Editorial introduction)

'It is not lost on me that the name of this journal tugs against the current issue's dedication to Indigenous poetries - the rabbit is a pest, an interloper, on Australian soil; a signifier of colonisation. I grew up with rabbits all around: big white bunnies with brown spots that were our pets, dragging the hutch across the lawn to mow another patch of grass; wild rabbits in the paddocks that had to be controlled; Nanna’s rabbit stew; Nanna saying KFC was actually rabbit meat; rabbits in the headlights with myxo-eyes; a hind leg and two kidneys deposited by a fox beneath the car. When I was born, my sister gifted me her toy rabbit, and he is still a constant companion.’ (Jessica L. Wilkinson : Editorial introduction)

‘What is Indigenous nonfiction poetry?

In short, it is Indigenous poetry. There is no need for the nonfiction qualifier. Peoples so vast and unalike tongue accounts at the common wound of colonisation, and turn that tongue inward to map their mouths. A global tradition that is so nebulous it’s difficult to pin down, and yet clarifies the closer you zoom – continent to region to nation to clan to person. (Alison Whittaker Poetry Editorial introduction)