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Chris Edwards

After Naptime by Chris Edwards

by
April 2015, no. 370

Chris Edwards is an enigmatic presence in Australian poetry. Part of a generation of poets who came of age in the 1970s, he co-edited the short-lived Beyond Poetry (1974–76) but then abandoned publication for many years. With the onset of a new millennium, he unexpectedly re-emerged, publishing a series of chapbooks that culminated in his first full-length ...

In the beginning he’d herd people
clocking up the hours in apartments
above and below him but they heard sink
and shower sounds and turned on washing
machines that spurted later while he was
on the job he’d reconsider part one of
his partner’s apparent lack of funding
proposal paperwork a black mark

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Yes, I hear you. I hear

something else too.

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The poems collected in Jaya Savige’s first book, latecomers (published by UQP as winner of the 2004 Arts Queensland Thomas Shapcott Poetry Prize), are often marvels in their own right – street-savvy, sensitive, intelligent lyrics. Together, even more impressively, they generate a many-branched, collective meditation on lateness.

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hi friend im a guy who loves

deeply and cops love pounding

and still a nice rootable future

looking for someone needs arise

in a few words a besides the

all ex i adore

and a telephone number

woe betide my joys and sorrows

ill reply to all letters signed 68kg

uncut cop the reply letters all

hi guy woe im pounding i

adore ex cops and my

future nice guy friend im

the reply number arise needs

joys still im hi friend and deeply

ill i love someone besides a few

rootable sorrows and looking for

words i adore my telephone numb

er the reply cops pounding

the letters uncut and

ex looking words

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It may seem somewhat odd that I, a racketeer and gangster, was suspected of making Cuba a safe place for the National Bank. But having made such an impression with my reports, prophecies and ancillary publications that the Federal Government, aided by a sycophantic mass, had declared me likely to generate flippers, I can see why I might have been a plausible suspect – the crime, after all, was committed by sea.

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It may seem somewhat odd that I, a racketeer and gangster, was suspected of making Cuba a safe place for the National Bank. But having made such an impression with my reports, prophecies and ancillary publications that the Federal Government, aided by a sycophantic mass, had declared me likely to generate flippers, I can see why I might have been a plausible suspect – the crime, after all, was committed by sea. The accusation, when it came, nonetheless caught me by surprise; I wasn’t quite certain at first how I should respond. After a while, I rang the bureau.

... (read more)