Except where otherwise noted, the content by Fred Harden is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
This only applies to content I've created of course
This only applies to content I've created of course
A place for the re-membering of things
I could never say I love them. In fact I was brought up to hate them and like a lapsed Catholic still feel there is an original sin that I’m denying by appreciating their beauty.
Basho’s travel writing give us insight into what drove this poet to keep searching for meaning and enlightenment. It inspired lots of experimental film titles, including some of mine, here’s one. Explained.
“Up there in the night air among the high-rises, music dies as you fire up your fake sunrises: your light is the birds’ last darkness.” Margaret Atwood
Here’s a small poem, or maybe a country fable, from my Another Country Diary of that date.
If you closely examine the men of the quill
And search for goods stolen with sharp piercing eyes…
I rather prefer short critics to long ones. I like critics with tan shoes — look nicer, I think. . .
An attack on “some of the hairiest, scrawniest, and most discontented specimens of all time”. Hang on I said, that was me, I wanted to be Beat, did people really think that?
Advice from Paul Valéry and Neil Gaiman about writing that story or shooting that film you keep putting off.
You chose your jobs because they promised to provide you with a steady income and leisure to render the Goddess whom you adore valuable part-time service.
“I am not talking here about going to the movies. I am talking about making cinema. I am talking about the life of vision. I am talking about cinema as one way of living the life of a poet. I am talking about film as poetry, as philosophy, as metaphysics, as all else it has […]
Kelly’s poems were often printed in Richard Grossinger and partner Lindy Hough’s literary journal Io . I bought each new edition (at The Source Bookshop in Bourke Street I suspect) and held them close to my breast back then.
In 1967 we were in Yevtushenko frenzy. It was his mix of politics, and romanticism. I saw him perform his poetry in Melbourne and I have a bootleg tape I made of Yevgeny and Kerry Dwyer performing his poems to rapturous applause.
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