Sydney writers’ Festival has a shuttle bus which is full every time a session opens its doors. Qpoets came on board to share some words on the short journey to the Quay. I wasn’t able to stand up on mine due to OH&S regulations. A punter wished me ‘good luck’. I sat there clutching the program and a poem in my belly. Silently. A few words on a ticket stub, if curious:
“We used to light fires and fight liars with liquid lungs
we’d pry open closed minds with a flick of our tongues”
» Jo Sri
“My favourite word is ‘loaf’.
Feel your mouth try to prevent it escaping, before it disappears”
» Scott Sandwich
‘…what follows life is as full as the silence after lightning strike’
» CJ Bowerbird
“I am the blood that sings for your everyday
You are my shared, broken arm of memory”
» Eleanor Jackson
“I’ve been working on this puzzle all my life.
Please don’t tell me there are pieces missing”
» Miles Merrill
“2-B or not 2-B? That’s the question.
Excuse me. My ticket says 2-B. Now you be in my seat”
» Miles Merrill
“The both of us are rocking
In the grin of our choices”
» Skye Loneragan
“We dig our heels into a photograph
Grip-blink the railing, fading into our future”
» Skye Loneragan
“Our art is still-born, you can hear a coin drop in here.
Shhh, don’t discuss it. This is bliss– this blinding, peaking ocean”
» Skye Loneragan
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