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.
you can’t count
Is it clear yet? That Betsy and I are having our extended poetry family come calling? That you and yours can join us and ours at the Anywhere Festival in May?
God I hope so. The clouds are peeling back from the sky. Look up and love.
Andrew Phillips was a part of the Words or Whatever women’s showcase, honoring local poet Lucy Blackman. He stood beside me and Doubting Thomas in his collaborative work with Tiggy Johnson at the Queensland Poetry Festival. Andrew’s words are strong and gentle, affirming and firm, equal parts moon rising and the pull on the tide.
Maybe you’ll come see us when he comes sees us and you can meet. No pressure. Only if you want to.
—
Peter: Oh my god, Brian, there’s a message in my Alphabits. It says, Oooooo. Brian: Peter, those are Cheerios.
— Family Guy
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