Tag Archives: Claire Gaskin

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PRESS RELEASE – The Howl that still shakes the world

image2The Howl that still shakes the world

Bareknuckle Poet launches its first annual anthology at Avid Reader on 9th October with global 60th anniversary celebrations of Ginsberg’s seminal work.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

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Bareknuckle Books’ first annual poetry + fiction + nonfiction anthology launches at 6pm on the 9th October at Avid Reader Bookshop, West End with global 60th anniversary celebrations of Ginsberg’s seminal work.


Bareknuckle Books has gathered together some of the best authors working today in its first annual poetry, fiction and nonfiction anthology; including Robert Adamson, MTC Cronin, Anthony Lawrence, John Tranter and Reg Mombassa. The anthology also features an officially licensed reprint of Allen Ginsberg’s Howl in its entirety.

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The anthology launchs at the HOWL & the Six Gallery reading at Avid Reader, West End, which is part of an international series of poetry readings celebrating the anniversary of Ginsberg’s classic. A.G Pettet MC’s the Brisbane event, with readings of new original work by Anthony Lawrence, Bronwyn Lea, Brentley Frazer and Eleanor Jackson.

 

Bareknuckle Books is a daring and innovative new Brisbane based publisher that champions the editorial principle to ‘only publish what we fall in love with’. Launched in 2014 they are already garnering a name for hunting out new work from great writers, both emerging and established.

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List of contributing authors: L. Ward Abel, Robert Adamson, Venero Armanno, Melissa Ashley, Lisa Marie Basile, Mandy Beaumont, Sally Breen, MTC Cronin, B. R. Dionysius, Maria C. Dominguez, Martin Edmond, Michael Farrell, Toby Fitch, Brentley Frazer, Claire Gaskin, Allen Ginsberg, Matt Hetherington, Eleanore Jackson, Anthony Lawrence, Alexandra McCallum, Tim McGabhann, Laura Jean Mckay, Corey Mesler, Reg Mombassa, A. G. Pettet, Mark Pirie, Rufo Quintavalle, Kris Saknussemm, Gary Snyder, David Stavanger, Todd Swift, John Tranter, Joanna C. Valente, Samuel Wagan Watson, Fakie Wilde, Mark Young, Ali Znadi + More

ENDS

Literary Fiction

Afterwardsness by Claire Gaskin

Afterwardsnessclaire-gaskin

We sit in Cuppa Cottage looking at a photograph from twenty eight years ago. We both had kept a copy. Cuppa Cottage is in Sandringham and has porcelain tea cups hanging from a wooden ladder over the cash register. We sit at a corner table under a large red paper umbrella. I have a plastic bag full of photos to go through together.

We lean in to each other over the photo. The horizon is yellowing with age; I wear a sarong over bikinis, my arms loosely around his neck. We both look out at the camera, our eyes in shadow.

‘I think it’s Byron Bay’, I say.

Women sit with their mothers or in groups of three friends. The waitress comes in a floral apron with rockabilly hair. Everyone else in Cuppa Cottage has a slight variation on the style you get in one of the six hairdressers in Sandringham.

‘You can order a trifle in a tea cup,’ I smile. We order two pots of English breakfast tea.

‘By the way’, Kevin says, ‘I am sorry about what happened’.

We are one third of the photo standing to the right of the frame, two thirds is sky and sea.
The moment is blue.

‘I was confused’, he says.

We are standing on a cliff. There is no sign of what is to come. What is a photo but the refusal of the future?

‘I could have dealt with it better’, he says.

There was no space between us. We wore thongs on our feet. I wore thongs, he wore thongs. In the coming months I would learn the power in a pronoun.

I was nineteen. It was 1984. I had worked at Myers as a lift driver to save enough money to go around Australia. Was there something about being between that I liked? I liked bridges and verandahs. Travelling up and down between floors. Travelling up the east coast of Australia. Many times in my life I have walked the streets at night looking at the warmth of lit windows with longing. But not wanting to be inside. Why is my favourite fairy tale The Little Match Girl? Is it the freedom exclusion brings? Is it because something considered of no substance can enter where there is no space? My university place was deferred. Every day numerous people said, ‘This job must have its ups and downs.’ I would try to smile. When it wasn’t busy it was solitary confinement. Sometimes the young men from refrigeration would ride with me.

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