Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet,
performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal
about town, feminist, freewheeler, and
friend. One day, she is going to be an
ideas curator. Which basically
means, she will tell you
exactly what she thinks.
Until then, you’ll have
to read between
the lines.
no one moves a brick wall with their hands over their hearts
Prohibition ended in the ACT in 1928
Charge your glasses – we can toast to our great, European narcotics:
alcohol and Christian God.
No one splits a lip or difference sober as a judgement daze
we made our pilgrimages to the unholy land of Queanbeyan
where you could still get a civilised drink.
Now we let the stagger juice roll and flow
desperate to get drunk for a penny, dead drunk for tuppence.
Bend an elbow, we can rub together all the mean bones
in our bodies for the High Court wants to buy Joan Maloney a drink
at the world’s longest bubbly bar.
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