What prompts a new poem?

Often enough scattered jottings in a notebook where, at a certain point, I sense something is going on. These notes may also relate to pieces written much earlier so I will often go back over the notebook to find them. It is important not to get too precious about the process. It is never ‘now I’m going to write a poem’.

What circumstances are ideal for writing poetry?

Time, but not too much of it. New experiences, but nothing too novel.

Roughly how many drafts do you produce before ‘finishing’ a poem?

In an age of word processing, it has become impossible to tell since minor changes can be made (and are) at any time. At a guess I’d say that most of my work takes between one and seven drafts. More than that usually means it’s never going to work, while at the lesser end the poems are often the result of cogitations I’ve been not entirely aware of (in other words, these poems have already been ‘drafted’, albeit unconsciously).

Which poet would you most like to talk to – and why?

I’ve been fortunate enough to talk to a number of older poets, many of whom are no longer with us. I count myself fortunate to have met poets such as Carl Rakosi, Gael Turnbull, Ed Dorn, Jonathan Williams, Lee Harwood, and Tom Raworth. If I could use a time machine, I’d like to talk to William Carlos Williams, especially about the radical work he produced in the 1920s.

Do you have a favourite Australian poetry collection?

John Forbes’s Collected Poems (2001).

What do poets need most: solitude or a coterie?

Probably both. A coterie is great when you’re young, but you need to be able to escape it eventually. You will always need companions, but it’s good if their poetics differs from your own.

What have you learned from reviews of your work?

Some years back I would have said, as William Carlos Williams did, ‘There’s a lot of bastards out there.’ Reviews, good or bad, often miss the mark, but occasionally someone will say something that’s worth finding out.

If Plato allowed you to keep one poem or poetry collection in his Republic, what would it be?

Paul Blackburn’s In, On, or About the Premises (1968). But then, I wouldn’t want to be in Plato’s Republic. Unfortunately, I have to be in ScoMo’s Republic.

What is your favourite line of poetry (or couplet)?

‘A dazed disc jockey fingers an epaulette.’

Is poetry appreciated by the reading public?

Some of the time. And by the rest of the public on often unpredictable occasions. That’s my guess.