Soon I fly to Brisbane to share the poetry of Lionel Fogarty with the crew at Brisbane Writers’ Festival. I imagine this version of ‘The Poet’s Life Works’, being the final one, will have its own spirit, tinged with a slight quiet that accompanies the ending of things.
My mind is dusting itself to find space for this event; I have not yet recovered from Lionel on stage, at The Redfern Community Center. His militant and impassioned language, of body, tongue and insides, continues to churn me up. I imagine many of those lucky enough to attend also continue to feel that event.
Oh, I given up thinking that there will be a time when I shall engage with people and experiences wholly certain of their outcomes. My mantra is, whether I want it or not, “learn a lot”.
I say today: “Of all days, I hope my plane to the festival doesn’t crash and burn.”
