
New poem out in Uncanny Magazine‘s Disabled People Destroy Science Fiction, “the body argonautica”.
New poem out in Speculative City, “ritual”, on personal and cultural neuroses.
You can read it here.
I have a poem in the latest issue of Voiceworks, #111, Riff. This poem is a lot of things: a love letter, an exercise in surreality, and a conversation between binary and nonbinary forms of trans identity. It draws on ancient Sumerian, Greek, and Egyptian astronomical theories, including those of Anaxagoras, Anaximander, Aristotle, Empedocles, Thales, and Ptolemy.
You can buy the issue here.
my body is a disc floating on an endless ocean
gently orbiting the distant island of your body
daylight reigns over my body and night over
your body black and absent of suns or stars
you are an immense vault studded with tiny
points of perfect light in which i am enclosed
the surface of my skin is much colder than
yours which is formed out of blazing metal
your body is a binary system while my body
continues to resist all binary classification
i am growing into a great old oak tree whose
questing branches twine around and into you
my body is no longer capable of sustaining life
and yet is still capable of sustaining your body
i retain my own field of gravity which is several
times heavier than the lighter gravity you exude
i am suspended in endless space watching you
plummet inevitably into a vast and infinite void
your body is a chariot wheel of mist-shrouded
fire encircling the hollow cylinder of my body
my body revolves not around the sun as initially
thought but in fact revolves around your body
the death of my body approaches rapidly but i
have every hope that your body will live forever
i am constructed from four elements while you
are formed of a single fifth and mythic element
you are a quintessence of luminiferous aether and
i simply consist of classical earth air water and fire
your existence is a scientific marvel while i am
considered to be a mathematical impossibility
my body is doubted by philosophers of antiquity
whose texts questioned the veracity of your body
unbeknown to many my body is not a flawless
sphere like yours but rather very slightly elliptical
I have a blackout poem out in Streetcake Magazine today!
It uses the text of Robert Burton’s Last Will and Testament, contained in the front matter of The Anatomy of Melancholy, What it is: With all the Kinds, Causes, Symptomes, Prognostickes, and Several Cures of it. In Three Maine Partitions with their several Sections, Members, and Subsections. Philosophically, Medicinally, Historically, Opened and Cut Up, first published 1621.
The poem and its transcription are reproduced below.

Cui vitam dedit et mortem
Melancholia
Azure a crescent
death, following
casualties to which our life is subject
our unsettled states
have
perfect
adventure of which I am ignorant
First
whensoever
I make
Legacies out of
specified
life Lady
if he be not
of the Ground I give
equally
other
days I
long to
bestow
purpose
to the
grave
perpetual
to redeem
my
remembrance
I desire
to be
where she is buried
besides I die
till then
I recently had a poem published in Cordite’s SUBURBIA issue. You can read it here. Please do check out the rest of the issue, there are some seriously excellent works that I am very proud to be published beside!
Recently one of my poems was a finalist in the Coalition of Texans with Disabilities’ Pen2Paper disability-focussed creative writing contest. I have reproduced the text of the poem here.
—
To my crip siblings, crip lovers, & crip mentors, to Laura Hershey and to Stella Young.
—
To the crips I love and who love me in return
from a distance or intimately close during
long nights where neither of us can sleep for pain
waiting for morning and the pain that morning brings
I am here for you.
To the crips who have been crips for longer
than I have been on this earth and who
welcomed me with open hearts and fire
of loving purpose in ancient battle
I am here for you.
To the crips who taught me power
comes from pride and pride comes from practicing
until you are proud (and that you don’t get proud
by being shit: you get proud by practicing)
I am here for you.
To the crips who do not know that they are crips
but know only that they hurt that their bones ache
that their muscles are heavy and that their eyes sting
in sunlight after another unhelpful appointment
I am here for you.
To the crips institutionalised and imprisoned
whose first crime was living and continuing to live
abused and neglected in homes that are not homes
trapped not in their bodies but by bar and mortar
I am here for you.
To the crips who sleep overnight
in desk chairs and wheelchairs
in the offices of politicians bedecked with banners
reading FREE OUR PEOPLE
I am here for you.
To the crips that have houses but not homes
or homes but not houses or neither home nor house
forced to live on the kindness and sideways glances
of strangers on public transport
I am here for you.
To the crips whose lands have been stolen
whose waters have been stolen
whose children have been stolen and whose lives
continue to be stolen
I am here for you.
To the crips who dislocate their hips
doing full service sex work to pay for medical bills
incurred from dislocating their hips
while doing full service sex work
I am here for you.
To the crips fighting to love each other
and to have their love recognised on equal terms
with all who are in love without penalty or price
or public stigma or getting bashed on street corners
I am here for you.
To the crips fighting to love themselves
after being unloved by those who should have loved them
or after being hurt by those who professed their love
but only when it was convenient
I am here for you.
To the crips who are drowning
in cold oceans seeking refuge or drowning
on dry land as their lungs fill with fluid
while emergency registrars do not watch
I am here for you.
To the crips who are burning
who have burnt out and from the ashes
are rising again charcoaled and brittle
and bold and battle-hardened
I am here for you.
To the crips who died
after living and loving and fighting
and then falling
to be remembered with love and fight
I am here for you.
To the crips who aren’t dead yet
living and fighting and fighting to live
and loving each other and fighting
for each other
I am here for you.
To the young crips, the old crips, the
queer crips, the trans crips, the brown crips,
the black crips, the proud crips, the tired crips,
the warrior crips, the poet crips, the dead and alive crips,
I think of you
I love and fight for you
I am here for you.
[image description: collaged text in pink orange & white on purple background, UNSPOKEN WORDS June 3-4 RED RATTLER: performances/workshops/panels/open mic reading space]
recently: UNSPOKEN WORDS, a festival of stories.
access guide available here.
the program is available here & lists the incredible lineup of artists and panels, including Hani Abdile, Evelyn Araluen, Maryam Azam, Stephany Basia, the Black and Deadly Women’s Poetry Circle, Emily Crocker, Winnie Dunn, Stelly Gappasauress, Isaac Green, Dan Hogan and Stacey Teague of Subbed In, Lizzy Jarrett, Gabrielle Journey Jones, Holly Friedlander Liddicoat, Fayroze Lutta, Paige Phillips, Poesifika, Candy Royalle, Sea, Ella Skilbeck-Porter, Effy Marie Smith, Margarita Tenser, Thelma Thomas aka MC Trey, Bron Watkins, and Joseph Zane. the festival was MC’d and organised by Emma Rose Smith.
i ran 1 solo lecture, was on 2 joint panels, & read some of my poetry in the evening.

[image description: white text on pink and blue background. PANEL – DEFINING OURSELVES FOR OURSELVES]
Defining Ourselves for Ourselves
Maryam Azam, Winnie Dunn, Robin M. Eames
11:15am – 12:15pm, main stage
Can we define ourselves by writing ourselves? We write ourselves, in whatever way possible for our individual needs, so as to create alternatives to single narratives. We need to see ourselves represented by people like us. Too many stories filter the whole world of experience through the gaze of abled cishet white people. This panel discusses the resistant power of telling our own stories, through the symbolic dialogue between living, visibility and text. We ask if and how we can write despite and beyond the dominating gaze of dual invisibility/hypervisibility that often occurs around politicised bodies.

[image description: white text on yellow and blue background. LECTURE – CRIPPING THE LITERARY: FINDING CRIP CULTURE]
Cripping the Literary: Finding Crip Culture, Learning Crip Language
Robin M. Eames
2:30 – 3:00pm, main stage
A fifth of Australians are disabled. So where the fuck are they? Are they at your poetry events? Are you reading their work? Are you listening to their communities? Are you fighting alongside them for their civil rights? If not, why? How do we change that? How can a gig, or space, or culture, be accessible (or not)? What are we overlooking? Why aren’t wheelchair users coming to our non-wheelchair-accessible events? How does disabled culture & community even manifest itself? For few answers & more questions, come to this lecture by Robin M. Eames, a disabled queertrans warrior poet who is only mostly dead.

[image description: white text on pink and blue background. PANEL – QUEERING POETRY: WRITING OURSELVES INTO EXISTENCE]
Queering Poetry: Writing Ourselves Into Existence
Margarita Tenser, Isaac Green, Robin M. Eames
5:00 – 5:45pm, main stage
Three trans, queer, & disabled panellists speak about queering poetry, trans retrohistories, art & intersectional identity, living in ill-fitting worlds & bodies, finding ourselves in stories not made with us in mind, and writing ourselves back into the narratives.

[image description: white text on pink and yellow background. PERFORMANCES – UNFINISHED BUSINESS]
UNFINISHED BUSINESS
Doors open (and dinner served) from 6:30, performances start 6:45. Main stage.
Hani Abdile, Winnie Dunn, Isaac Green, Robin M. Eames, Lorin Elizabeth, Dan Hogan, Elizabeth Jarrett, Gabrielle Journey Jones, Ella Skilbeck-Porter, Margarita Tenser, Auslan Stage Left
Come one and all to the biggest session of Unspoken Words! Hosted by the wonderful Lorin Elizabeth, this night will feature poetry readings by Winnie Dunn, Isaac Green, Robin M. Eames, Dan Hogan, Elizabeth Jarrett, Gabrielle Journey Jones, Ella Skilbeck-Porter and Margarita Tenser.
Hani Abdile will then present Absent Souls: A conversation with imprisoned souls. This new performance will be accompanied by a Q&A session and Hani’s performance of her own poetry.
This session will feature live Auslan interpretation thanks to Auslan Stage Left!
Dinner will be available thanks to Parliament on King, the social enterprise caterer. Beautiful food made with love. Proceeds from the catering are reinvested into hospitality training programs for locals with asylum seeker / refugee backgrounds at the King St café.

[image description: event poster with a not-quite-complete list of artists, in the style of the featured image of this blog post, described above]
the festival was held at the Red Rattler Theatre, on the stolen lands of the Gadigal Wangal peoples of the Eora nation. sovereignty has never been ceded. always was, always will be Aboriginal land.
i really can’t emphasise enough how utterly awed, delighted, & proud i felt to be sharing a stage with such powerful & beautiful artists, & to have the chance to listen to their words. we did something really special last weekend & it gives me hope.