I love the poems of the Australian poet TT O, Initially it’s impenetrable, but once you start reading it out loud you hear in the phonetic smash of letters, the

I love the poems of the Australian poet TT O, Initially it’s impenetrable, but once you start reading it out loud you hear in the phonetic smash of letters, the voices of inner city Melbourne in the decades between ww2 and gentrification, indigenous and immigrant voices speaking an English they’ve picked from the people around them who are often using it as a second or third language. If it’s not a time and place you remember, I’m not sure what you’ll hear when you read his poems, maybe it’s not such an obstacle, there are other places where people lived a similar experience, but for me I have to dwell on it until I hear the sounds, and then it fills we with this vivid longing for a time and place we can never go back to, a place that now exists only as a working class patina over luxury dining and real estate https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pi_O https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pi_O