Looking through the titles of poems in Brisbane poet Jane Frank’s new book Gardening on Mars, two words stood out – Eagle Junction.

Now I’m not saying the Brisbane north side locality of Eagle Junction isn’t worthy of a poem, but I have never thought this place as particularly poetic. Even though I live nearby as does, I happen to know, the poet. Eagle Junction is, to me, a train station and a row of shops in a tatty strip that’s long overdue for refurbishment.

But there it is on page 41, Wild Birds, Eagle Junction and below it a line about inspiration for the poem: After Georges Braque’s ‘Oiseaux’ 1962. Braque was a contemporary of Picasso’s. The confluence of Eagle Junction and Braque continues to pique my interest in a poem that begins: The wild birds all leave my mind at once when the train moves from the platform. Not to worry though … they will ruffle their feathers against my thoughts as I walk home against a flat sky.

This poem is typical of Frank’s oeuvre in the sense that nature and the ordinariness of urban life collide in a most attractive fashion. The blurb on the back cover says her work “transcends terrestrial boundaries, exploring profound connections between the natural world and human experience”.

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“Ranging from confessional and ekphrastic poems to surreal evocations of Australian place that express strong emotional connection, these poems maintain a rich dialogue with visual artists and writers of the past and present.”

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And don’t worry, I had to look up the meaning of ekphrastic too. I’ve never been entirely clear what it means and I’m not afraid to say so: “It is a vivid, often dramatic, verbal description of a visual work of art, either real or imagined”.

Ah, yes, it makes sense because Franks’ visual art references are many and varied with references to Gerhard Richter, Braque and, among others, our own Arthur Boyd. The Fall is ‘after Arthur Boyd’s ‘Nebuchadnezzar on fire falling over a waterfall,’ 1966.

It begins with lines that perfectly describe Boyd’s landscape vision, and the poem explores mythological themes.

It’s the place names that will delight readers, especially those who live in South East Queensland. Mount Glorious on a Spring afternoon that felt like winter, for example, a poem that includes an image that is highly original and typical of Frank. We were inside a snow globe / but it was raining leaves and small hard seeds. / No water fell across the rocks / where a waterfall had dried to red dust / But we waited for increments / of beauty to cheer us up.

Other familiar places that turn up include Tamborine Mountain or, further afield, Hobart during Dark Mofo in Hobart Reset. There is a Sydney poem, too, which I love because I am a fan of the artist Christo. (I was once auditioned to play him in a film, but that’s another story.)

Wrapped is after Christo and Jean-Claude’s ‘Wrapped Coast’, Little Bay, Sydney 1969. Art lovers will be familiar with Christo’s tendency to wrap up big things including buildings and landscapes. Christo turns up in the poem as … a tousle-haired man standing / unfazed beneath a wuthering sky, / a gyre of clouds around him / and his vast sheets of white: / half event, half monument. Indeed.

There are poems in all shapes and forms here – spindly lines, tightly packed stanzas, prose poems. One that is almost a short story, Survey, involves a run-in with bureaucracy at a swimming pool in Brisbane. She is being asked by a man with a clipboard why she comes to this pool:

I don’t tell him that I love the raised pavilion and the curvilinear walls / the startling composition of geometric and plastic modernist-influenced / forms that let me feel as if I am moving through an alien landscape in / fluid, transparent space at a futuristic junction

I’m guessing it’s the Centenary Pool in Spring Hill. Correct me if I’m wrong.

Her descriptions of places of wild beauty are moving and beautiful, but I also enjoy her appreciation of the suburban landscape, particularly of the Brisbane that I know and love too.

But what has all this to do with Mars? Ah, all is revealed in the titular poem dedicated to her son Euan, who helped design the cover for the book:

I believe you when you tell me that dandelions / would grow better on Mars, / that astrobiology students have practiced / with potting mix from the Mojave Desert, / matched Martian soil samples

From Eagle Junction to Mars is a big leap of imagination, but Jane Frank ranges near and far with ease in this brilliant collection. And if you’re a little intimidated by poetry, have no fear, she writes accessibly with little obfuscation. Occasionally you may have to look something up, though, but only occasionally.

Gardening on Mars by Jane Frank, Shearsman Books, $20. Available through Amazon, Waterstones and all good bookshops or from Shearsman at shearsman.com/store/Jane-Frank-Gardening-on-Mars-p734039505