Sydney writers’ Festival has a shuttle bus which is full every time a session opens its doors. Qpoets came on board to share some words on the short journey to the Quay. I wasn’t able to stand up on mine due to OH&S regulations. A punter wished me ‘good luck’. I sat there clutching the program and a poem in my belly. Silently. A few words on a ticket stub, if curious:

“We used to light fires and fight liars with liquid lungs
we’d pry open closed minds with a flick of our tongues”

 » Jo Sri          

 

“My favourite word is ‘loaf’.

 Feel your mouth try to prevent it escaping, before it disappears”

 » Scott Sandwich     

‘…what follows life is as full as the silence after lightning strike’

 » CJ Bowerbird      

“I am the blood that sings for your everyday

 You are my shared, broken arm of memory”

 » Eleanor Jackson      

 

“I’ve been working on this puzzle all my life.

Please don’t tell me there are pieces missing”

 » Miles Merrill         

“2-B or not 2-B? That’s the question.

 Excuse me. My ticket says 2-B. Now you be in my seat”

 » Miles Merrill       

 

“The both of us are rocking 

   In the grin of our choices”

» Skye Loneragan     

 

“We dig our heels into a photograph

   Grip-blink the railing, fading into our future”

» Skye Loneragan    

 

“Our art is still-born, you can hear a coin drop in here.

  Shhh, don’t discuss it. This is bliss– this blinding, peaking ocean”

» Skye Loneragan