Intents by Anne Elvey published by Liquid Amber Press 2025 was launched by Jennifer Compton at Frankston Library on June 14^th 2025.

I met Anne Elvey quite a few yonks ago at a soup and haiku night Myron Lysenko hosted when he was living in Brunswick, before he did the tree change thing and relocated to Woodend. I had taken my knitting in case it was boring, but then Anne arrived and sat on the couch next to me. So I pierced my bamboo needles through the ball of maroon wool and relinquished the kit and caboodle to the arm rest. Something about the quality of her presence, the quiet intensity of her attention to what was going down, made me understand that this was not going to be a boring night. At all. At all. That was our meet cute. And then I found out that she was to all intents and purposes a neighbour. She lives in Seaford and I live in Carrum.  

I mentioned her quiet intensity. I would characterise this as a kind of serene focus which, in certain circumstances, can almost seem to be intense, when the light catches it the right way. Which brings me to the title of this book. Intents. Now there’s a word that works hard to support the layered structure of the house of poetry. It has at least four discrete meanings, if you sound it out.

Intents

This is purposes, promises, the way forward. And I quote from the fourth section of the title poem.

four spells
insist

ibises riding
a thermal

a bodysurfer
catching a wave

the sought word
written

your just hope
met

Intense

This means highly concentrated, of extreme force or strength. I quote from ‘The birthing body’.

if the birthing body opens
if the birthing body opens to
if the birthing body opens to a lively
if the birthing body opens to a lively unknown

if the birthing body says
if the birthing body says yes
if the birthing body says yes heaving
if the birthing body says yes heaving and sweating’

In tents

Living under canvas, out among nature. And this is a natural tendency of this book because reading this book is like being soused in nature. I quote from ‘Shimmers of leaf’.

…………………………………..as if I were not a creature
as if I had forgotten ………………….how to leaf.

In tense

This speaks of the beauty of the amalgam of past, present and future. This sensibility saturates the book. I quote from ‘Stone Tongue’.

Immersed in speech before you knew
tongue. Ear to your own cry’s
primary exhalation. That tiny cave of bone.

Its timpani formed during your first
swim, tethered to tissue inside her pelvic
cage – osseous cells. Honeycomb. Rigid.

Porous. Surprisingly mobile. Expanding
to grasp you and let you go – slow as
your need, all being well. 

I must make a graceful obeisance to Liquid Amber Press. To Rose and Pauline. To Pauline and Rose. (And all that sail with them.) They know what they are doing and we can all apprehend and appreciate what they are doing and they are doing it so well.

Now in the time-honoured way, I take hold of a (metaphorical) bottle of champagne and I attempt to smash it first go (because that is what traditionally brings the luck) across the bow of this proud book. I need a bit of a run up. There! Smash! Phew! Done it! Bubbles everywhere!

But does a book of poetry that carries the precious freight of good intentions, of a tender regard for what came before and what will come after, of diligent enquiry of craft, of the bringing forth of consummate poetry (as I understand it) need luck. No! It makes its own luck.

  – Jennifer Compton

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Jennifer Compton lives in Melbourne. She is a poet and playwright who also writes prose. Recent Work in Canberra published her 11th book of poetry the moment, taken in 2021. Her 12^th book Still is coming soon.

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Intents by Anne Elvey is available from https://liquidamberpress. com.au/ product/intents/

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