New and Selected PoemsAcclaim for Salom's poetry- Sky Poems- there has been nothing quite like these poems in Australian poetry before ... Sky Poemsshould be read by anyone who cars for scope and scale in poetry, and who enjoys language at full stretch. Peter Porter The Projectionist- a richly fruitful experience - a voyage of poetic discovery. Bruce Beaver, Weekend Australian |
From inside the book
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Page 79
... - brown , sun - swirled sloughing of smoke . There flames ! The heat's intense , will the glass hold its invisible densities , or crack , the carriages taking in like a row of lungs . Children cry out ( there's no more logic in bombs 79.
... - brown , sun - swirled sloughing of smoke . There flames ! The heat's intense , will the glass hold its invisible densities , or crack , the carriages taking in like a row of lungs . Children cry out ( there's no more logic in bombs 79.
Page 150
... There's no worse master . Think of Ibsen , Bergman , their chthonic power ; and there is Bjorling's head - power , his tense ambivalent heart like the intensifying duel of Lensky , arias after alcohol Bjorling drunk on stage the double ...
... There's no worse master . Think of Ibsen , Bergman , their chthonic power ; and there is Bjorling's head - power , his tense ambivalent heart like the intensifying duel of Lensky , arias after alcohol Bjorling drunk on stage the double ...
Page 213
... There's parrots and there's parrots . There's poets and there's poets . The second lot can sing their own words , with a bit of luck , and courage . But truth's no sure thing any more , for those who thought it ever was . So there's hands ...
... There's parrots and there's parrots . There's poets and there's poets . The second lot can sing their own words , with a bit of luck , and courage . But truth's no sure thing any more , for those who thought it ever was . So there's hands ...
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Anthony Caro arms Australian Australian Book Review BENJAMIN BRITTEN beside blood blue body bonang breasts breath cold colour dark dead death door dream drunk dying empty eyes face fall fear feel filled fingers fish flame flesh ghosts glass gleaming gone green hair Hallaj hands head hear heart heat Hermit Crab images inside JUSSI BJORLING legs lift light lines live look lovers move Mullewa naked never Newcastle Poetry Prize night pain past PHILIP SALOM poems poet poetry Pol Pot primal scream rain river shock shoulders silence singing skin slow smell someone sound spin spine stare stone strange street Sufis sunlight there's things Thylacine Tiger beer touch trees turn Venice verismo voice waiting walk walls watch wayang wheels wind window woman women words