Poetry

Easter

/ Zenobia Frost / Leave a comment

Well, the launch is shaping up, and the response insofar has been very positive, which is making me all warm and fuzzy. Thank you.

More shameless self-promotion in the lead-up to May 3rd. I’m posting a portion of my interview with Graham Nunn at Another Lost Shark (thanks G!), in which I blather on about whatever it is my chapbook’s about…

zenobia-frost

SweetWater Press is due to release your debut collection. Tell us about its evolution.

A university manuscript-writing project gave me an excuse to compile a chapbook, so I’ve been working on the collection for a year or so. It’s a quiet little thing, but I quite like the way it’s come to life. It’s funny that you chose the word ‘evolution’, because the chapbook, The Voyage, began as an excuse to bring together all of my oceanic love poems, but somehow it grew legs and crawled onto land with a series of poems about bugs, reptiles, people and finally houses. (However, if we follow the book’s idea of the ‘natural flow’ of evolution to its conclusion, then a tall gin and tonic is the height of civilisation. Maybe I’m onto something?)

The Voyage will be launched on May 3rd (7pm, !Metro Arts Basement), before I set off on a voyage of my own (with a box of books!) to enjoy the Midwest-American summer.metroartslogoonly

You can read the rest of the interview here.

Want More?

Stylus Poetry Journal: Issue 31, October 2008
http://styluspoetryjournal.com/main/master.asp?id=874

Mascara Poetry: Issue 4
http://www.mascarapoetry.com/

I hope you’re having a lovely Easter long-weekend, and I hope you’re as stuffed full of chocolate as I am.

Zenobia
x o x

Finally!

/ Zenobia Frost / 4 Comments

The Voyage

a poetry chapbook concerning the adventures of
Zenobia Frost

with illuminations by

Bettina Walsh


launches at 7pm, May 3rd

!Metro Arts Basement
109 Edward Street, Brisbane

featuring James Sherlock on jazz guitar

$5 entry / free drinks and nibblies


Presented by SweetWater Press

Contraverse

/ Zenobia Frost / Leave a comment

Contraverse launches into 2009 at 7pm on the 17th of April, with Round Robin Open Mic and a feature set from Miss Ruby Fizz herself, Zenobia Frost, reading from her upcoming poetry collection. Entry is free.

The Book Nook
Upstairs, 173 Boundary St.
West End, Brisbane

Keep your eye on the Brisbane poetry world at Another Lost Shark.

Contraverse was established by a youthful King Ludwig II during his GAP year in Brisbane in 1863. When he returned to Bavaria in preparation for his reign, Stefanie Petrik and Brent Downes took up the reins of Brisbane’s most eclectic monthy poetry extravaganza. It remains a home for spoken word, music and mischief today.

Zenobia Frost is a poetic adventurer and protector of apostrophes whose creative work has been published in Voiceworks, Going Down Swinging, Small Packages, Mascara and Stylus. She has performed at the Queensland Poetry Festival for three years running, and last year successfully launched The Ruby Fizz Society, a light-hearted opportunity to indulge in fine food, fine arts and high-class frivolity. Her first collection of poetry, The Voyage, will be published by SweetWater Press on May 3rd of this year.

Lady to Ladette?

/ Zenobia Frost / 2 Comments

Important news, readers. Auditions are being held for the next season of Aussie Ladette to Lady.

There’s actually a large portion of my brain (or if not my brain, then my kidneys) that would very much like for me to go on that show.

Sadly, a friend did point out the other day that I don’t regularly binge drink, swear at strangers, or moon people. Well, maybe I should learn. We’re talking a free five-week course in cookery, dress-making and etiquette, here. After all, I’m hardly a perfect lady, so it can’t be too hard to head in the other direction. Right?

A few days later, while recording some spoken word demos, Nerissa pointed out that to ‘pass’ as a ladette I’d probably have to be hip to whatever young people today are into. I am a young person; I must be hip. Right? Hmm. Actually, right now I’m thinking of the number of times the high school students I tutor smack their heads against their desk when I try to make up-to-date pop culture references.

I’m just trying to make it interesting for them. Okay, so I don’t completely understand these sparkly Cullen people listening to bands composed of young men who sport fringes at jaunty angles and jeans that are half falling-off, singing about how much things bleed when you cut yourself shaving. Maybe they shouldn’t use Aspirin, or something. Doesn’t that thin the blood? Maybe they should buy safety razors and make sure to use shaving cream.

I don’t know.

I should probably get back to pretending I know which poems I should submit to Publications of Interest.

I should print a zine titled ‘prominent literary magazines’ so that everyone who’s in it can put that on their CV and feel great.

Oh. This photo. This is a picture of the inside of my head:

zenbrain

Here’s a small poem to reward you for getting through this blog entry without your brain also turning into feathers and sparkly things.

~~~

Epilogue I

I see the moon half-empty
behind spilled-milk clouds.
In the backyard hammock,
I drink gin and tonic
and wait for the sun.

That sun has so much
to be glad about.

Zen and the Very Blustery Day

/ Zenobia Frost / 2 Comments

It’s a bit windy outside. I should go about my collection and fix hat elastics.

There’s an Italian word I learnt yesterday that I was going to share with you, but I’ve decided it’s so delicious that I’m going to keep the whole thing to myself. Maybe I’ll show you the plate with the crumbs on it. If you can guess what it is, I’ll give you a raspberry. Clues? It’s a musical term; if it were a fruit, I think it’d be a cherry; and it has to do with gentlemen in balaclavas.

Anyhoo, newses:

Many of you know what a sensitive bug I can be; I had research vegetarianism for work, and haven’t eaten meat since–not even yesterday, when Caitie’s cheeseburger smelt like some kind of tasty god–but I have been enjoying making things with lentils.

I’m very definitely travelling to Wisconsin in May to meet the Fonz (and co.), so I’m madly excited about that. I’ve been using my departure date as a deadline to clear up some unfinished business, and I’m feeling so much better for it. I’m enjoying a week of great levity, even if I feel swept off my feet with busy-ness. Days need to be longer.

Finalising venue stuff for launch of The Voyage shortly, so watch this space. Ms Walsh has been doing a very fine job of the art for the book; do take a squiz at it here. I’ve not yet seen the final image, but I’m leaning towards this glorious drawing for the cover:

Sky Fishing

Sky Fishing

Finally, for today, here’s a poem that’ll be included in the chapbook. It was printed in The Definite Article in 2007, and hasn’t seen the light of day since then. And yes, the house in the poem did have massive cracks in the walls. They let the sunshine in very nicely.

Woodgate Sonnet
for Andrew, the ghost

And suddenly it gets colder. The sun
lingers on the horizon, waiting to drop
like a stone to the water. Buried under

the sand, our feet feel the tide. We pull
our coats around ourselves, pockets heavy
with shells, and hunt for our shoes in the dark.

My hands rebel against the chill; keys tremble
in the door. We shuffle in, pad around
in sleeping bags, leave the dishes till morning.

We drink dark Earl Grey, pour an extra cup
for Andrew, listen to Bowie or maybe
Waits, and notice yet another fissure

opening the walls between us and the sky,
us and the water, us and our Woodgate.

Oh, and I’m setting myself a new challenge. I’m going to write a poem for every single one of my hats (well, for their mysterious previous owners). They shall appear here in coming weeks (months… who knows).

So this is the new year…?

/ Zenobia Frost / 6 Comments

Oh hey, it’s 2009. Wouldya look at that.

How time flies.

I’ve been watching a lot of movies and working-from-home at the same time. This resulted in a four-month poetry hiatus. But I’m back!

(And no, regarding the last post: I didn’t grow a moustache. I wish I could!)

The kind folks at Voiceworks kindly published a poem of mine in their ‘Beat’ issue a couple of months ago. It went a little something like this:

My heart a chest of drawers

1. Red drawer
Sophia Loren’s breasts netted behind wet cotton. Klaus Kinski’s Dracula and the raw lust of unglamour. The inflamed joints where my spine becomes skull. When I watch the late news, I feel impotent. The tide of my blood still rushes forward when I call you.

2. Orange drawer
Fruit peel left on the table top: a hollow planet collapsing inwards. We danced the merengue to the radio on the lawn. Mustard seeds popped between my teeth. We made cordial on Sundays, jug too big for me to hold. I’ve seen too many sunrises from the wrong end lately.

3. Yellow drawer
Children unwrap presents on Christmas morning; the older ones try not to tear paper beliefs. I hear they trucked the beach into the city grain by grain. You washed my body with a new bar of Sunlight. The cat licks up yolk splattered on the floor.

4. Green drawer
Memories of home: Koro Kahikatea, strong and moss-bearded. A low voice sings cicada songs while I sleep. My right hand writes; my left hand holds the book so that I may write. I used to think that broccoli were tiny trees.

5. Blue drawer
Half-moon wavers above the swimming pool. The pool swallows the moon. A grey cat sometimes mews at our laundry door. I’m sewing a mixtape called ‘Raincoat’ for my early-morning downpours. I always feel for my pulse after you’ve hung up.

6. Purple drawer
Incense smokes bad spirits out of the house, though I’m still allergic. My spectacles match my hair-colour; I imagine I have wings the same shade. There used to be violet and indigo, but I guess they forgot to separate them in the wash.

This was an attempt to get my brain in order.

I was pleasantly surprised, today, to find that Miss Laila liked a poem of mine and posted it on her blog. Thank you, Laila. :)

More exciting things: I’m invading the US in May. That should be an adventure!

This month I’m reading e.e. cummings, a whole lot of NZ poetry, and the novel Coastliners. Actually I’m reading about twelve novels, as per usual. I’ll let you know which I finish.

Yesterday I learnt that there’s a moth that behaves just like a hummingbird. Look:

QPF in Frame Lines

/ Zenobia Frost / Leave a comment

Each member of the Queensland Poetry Festival committee has a short article and poem in Issue 5 of Frame Lines magazine. Zen’s poem is…

Rat

 

I am the cloaked detective.

I am the silent choir. I am the top

of the slush pile.

I am sleeping inside your pocket.

I am the gatherer of secrets

in my nest of old headlines.

I am Icarus, scaling the maze

before flight and I am Houdini,

with supple spine. I am a mathematician;

I can multiply. I am looking to master

mischief’s map, whatever

X might mark the spot of.

Poetry on the CityCats

/ Zenobia Frost / Leave a comment

From the Ferry, Looking Out

What bonds must hold these atoms’ hands
that I stand so collected,
like stamps or butterflies?
I can see my yesterdays
scattered across this river, and I wonder whether
you could piece me together in different ways
by asking the inconstant water
how she would build me.

Twilight shatters into street lights;
deep blue turns fog
into romance. I am looking
to complete my collection,
and I keep coming back
to Brisbane.

Zenobia Frost

QPF’s Poem of the Week (Poetry in the Suburbs) project takes poetry to the general public, with a new poem on CityCat ferry screens every week. Mine was up in July 2007.