In 2019 Michael Farrell edited the anthology Ashbery Mode, a collection of over sixty Australian poets whose work has been inspired by John Ashbery. The anthology is as much a testament to Ashbery’s range (both form and tone) and durability as it is to his inimitability. Ashbery’s influence is noticeable in Farrell’s own poetry, the two poets share a penchant for playing with form.
“Good Fortune” borrows much of its formal restrictions from a sestina: six, six-line stanzas followed by a tercet. But Farrell disrupts the traditional sestina: instead of repeating the end words of the first stanza in sequence throughout the poem, he repeats the opening words, while maintaining the traditional pattern. The shift in placement alters the dynamic of the poem, which assumes a “push” force, rather than the “pull” of a traditional sestina, in which we know where we will end up, we just don’t know how we are going to get there. The irony of Farrell’s adaptation of the sestina is that the opening up of the end words to variation does not alter the form’s overall effect. We still know where we are going to end up: right back at the beginning.
Good Fortune
Suddenly I was a banker with a magnificent desk
Yet it seemed that after years of success and luck
Everything I’d worked for was about to disappear
Due to mismanagement or fraud or the economy
Thanks to good fortune however, it turned around
And I kept the desk with its four kangaroo legs
Suddenly I was a farmer with a magnificent flock
Yet it seemed that the good seasons and high yields
Everything I’d taken for granted had now collapsed
Due to climate change or bureaucratic guidelines
Thanks to good fortune though, I was able to sell it
And it became a sanctuary for sheep with wooden legs
Suddenly I was a toymaker with a magnificent factory
Yet it seemed after years of innovation and record sales
Everything had become unpopular and old-fashioned
Due to multinational pressure or the cheapness of plastic
Thanks to good fortune or rep, I got a new commission
And became a maker of robots with weaponised legs
Suddenly I was a priest with a magnificent window
Yet it seemed that the amount of joy and worshippers
Everything that seemed right in the world, was dwindling
Due to scandals and competing with Twitter and Satan
Thanks to good fortune or God’s grace, or Coca-Cola
And the thirst for promotion, I became a Coke on legs
Suddenly I was a porn star with a magnificent action
Yet it seemed that the decades of sex and recognition
Everything that’d once been a stud’s due, was over
Due to ageing or cams and the rise of amateurism
Thanks to good fortune or surgery I literally became
A donkey and could do so much more with four legs
Suddenly I was a kangaroo with a magnificent head
Yet it seemed that after years of a cushioned existence
Everything in the building including me was obsolete
Due to mismanagement or asbestos or the economy
Thanks to good fortune I was reprieved (and relieved)
And went to the home of a creature with two legs
Suddenly no-one believed in magnificence any more
Yet everything that once had legs was due to return
Thanks to good fortune and the decline of the circle
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Author: Thomas Moody
