Biography of Luke Davies
Luke Davies is an Australian writer of novels, poetry and screenplays, born in Sydney in 1962.
Davies' first poetry collection, Four Plots for Magnets, was published in 1982, when he was twenty.
His novel Candy was made into a film starring Heath Ledger in 2006. His other works include the novels Isabelle the Navigator and God of Speed, and several volumes of poetry - Four Plots for Magnets, Absolute Event Horizon, Running With Light and Totem.
Davies' brother Ben Davies, an Australian television producer, now teaches at Armidale Film and Television School in NSW, Australia. Youngest brother Felix Davies, is a Sound Recordist and Composer, residing in the United Kingdom.
Luke Davies's Works:
Candy (Allen & Unwin Publishers, Sydney 1997)
Candy (Vintage Books, London 1998)
Candy: A Novel of Love and Addiction (Ballantine Books, New York 1998) (note: Davies made small but significant changes to the US and UK editions; he considers that the Australian edition, second edition and afterwards, is the definitive version.)
Isabelle the Navigator (Allen & Unwin Publishers, Sydney 2000)
Isabelle the Navigator (Berkley Books, New York 2002)
God of Speed (Allen and Unwin, 2008), about Howard Hughes
Four plots for magnets (Glandular Press, 1982)
Absolute event horizon : poems (Angus & Robertson, 1994)
Running with light : poems (Allen & Unwin, 1999)
Totem : Totem poem plus 40 love poems (Allen & Unwin, 2004) Review
Davies, Luke (March 2009). "Tales of the City". The Monthly 43: 64–66. Film review of Milk, directed by Gus Van Sant.
Davies, Luke (September 2008). "The Penalty is Death". The Monthly 38.
Davies, Luke (March 2008). "Heath Ledger, 1979–2008". The Monthly 32.
Davies, Luke (April 2007). "Extravagant Stillness: Philip Gröning’s 'Into Great Silence'". The Monthly 22.
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Luke Davies Poems
Poetry And Flowers
Lark and rose go mad, even with winter coming on, the garden beneath the verandah blooms, the park is dense with sun and soccer balls. By lark I mean generic bird, God knows
Spastic At The Beach
Twisted body silhouetted in a flood of summer light he seems incongruous down here.
Reading physics in the Charger at North Bondi; after a while it gets hard to concentrate. All that sunlight.
Pass unseen through a godforsaken floodplain, city of treachery, siege and publishers. No backbone here at all, nothing to fight, or with. All sunken in unmerciful decay.
In the yellow time of pollen, in the blue time of lilacs, in the green that would balance on the wide green world, air filled with flux, world-in-a-belly in the blue lilac weather, she had written a letter:
In the dead of night in the dead of time the private creatures nibbled, milky under moonlight. Not a pine needle dropped. A salmon pulse throbbed muted
Crescent Moon Over Over The Eiffel Tower
First I think of Jesus, or not actually Jesus, but the vapour trail from a jet, which makes a line across the hard sky parallel with the top of my window, which makes me think of Apollinaire
A Short History Of Polar Exploration
The snowlines, moving in, and light failing fast as aurora borealis throbs there like a walrus heart, all the land so wide, so all around; so vast as to haunt. Mythology, the oil flares far away. Lightning
Poetry And Blood
The leaves are budding on the trees. The buds are popping everywhere. Spring as in spring in the step makes sense. In Paris there is the dead of winter as in you think of death as in great boats
Selection From 40 Love Poems
Sugar Lee you are the sun today, Pervasive light and heat, and I The valley floor, the birch pine slopes, The snow-capped peaks, transparent sk
There is more blue up here. This is good. There is more light careening in the air. The haloes are in form. Light floods the cerebral cortex all day long; the toughest wildest physicists acknowledge this, agree with
Wave Function, Bondi
am floating or falling. I am light as a feather, or even my thumbprint fills the sky. The water near shore
Helluva day the day I fought the lion to the death when the women found me prone across its flanks
From Theory To Pulse
Church of St Etienne du Mont, Paris Because that force through green fuse drives all flowers (which we would call the greater force, or God, or minor gods)
Helluva day the day I fought
the lion to the death
when the women found me
prone across its flanks
and couldn't work out
whose blood was whose
“Pardon me that you see me
in this disgraceful condition