Owen Bullock
alarms
               I’m a smallish medium
               and in China I’m extra large
                                             if I were an author
                                             I’d write a book called . . .
                                                            bleeding without glasses
                                                                           hiding in junk mail
                                                                                          I see a dog in italics
                                                                           that sounds experiential
                                                            it took me to a place
                                                            that I wasn’t
                                             initiate the force field!
                              clouds contain sentient bacteria
               the fire alarm is still singing
found myself in this paper bag
& just kept talking
seek me out
in a well-lit corridor
               ayayah!
               the bird calls
                              she wears
                              anti-facial recognition make-up
                                             Aint Skeered
                                                            we all self-helped each other
                                             there will be mummy and daddy words
                              it throws the potter
UK
               Dunfermline’s like a mini Edinburgh
               multicultural caffees and stuff, ken
                              have you come far?
                                             to befriend the arsonist
                                             I’ll wear a bikini
                                                            to listen to Vivaldi’s Summer
                                                            p cannot validate q
it’s like the beginning of a hologram
painted or unpainted
buckled, unbuckled
               I would have changed the loudness of London
serviettes on the floor
                              grey quartz and black tourmarine
                                             ivy and valerian
a seat named after them
               ants might get me fingers!
                              beer is food
                                             no animals to attract
                                             or defend themselves from
                                                            we’re outdumbered
another sock in the road
               are you a collector or a classifier?
swell & surge
slip & skip
               every man and his dog’s got a dog
                              the chattering classes
                                             I don’t know what ta-boo-lay is
                                                            Swiftly see each moment flies
                                                            See and learn be timely wise
                                                            Every moment shortens days
                                                            Every pulse beats time away
                                                            This the every heaving breath
                                                            Wafts onto eternal death       (Anon)
kneeding & clawing
nettles & stones
               he also believed in other more dodgy things like
               honesty and goodness
                              Crabber’s Nip
they have the correct apple pie to custard ratio
the best fish ’n’ chips so far
power lines
moss dangles
               treasure every sighting
                              I never stopped wanting to be sophisticated
                                             in the supermarket twilight zone
                                             me and Brian Clough were crocodile ghostbusters
to celebrate the nooks & crannies
of god
               a laster
                              you can buy sexy mother-pucker lipstick
                                             Buddha irradiates the wonderful energies of Healing, Luck,
                                             Abundance and Happiness eternally.
jewels in church and temple
ourselves manifested
               No! Smoking
                              Mixxed Vegetables
sultry noise
Ox
               that week I left the dishes
               vomit bags by my bed
                              No Pride in Genocide
                              Fuck Australia Day
                                             he robbed a bank with a cactus
                                                            garlic,
                                                            if there’s garlic!
flags in the ant hills
               her family
               had Sean Connery for their milk boy
               shaken not curdled
                              8.56
                              waiting for the shop to open
                              to buy a cake tin
he carries scales
up the mountain
gets an ant on his finger
licks it off
you mention the family
who lost a child . . .
a butterfly appears
               twice as worse
                              she was called a blue stocking
                                             mention humanitarian aid
                                             and the room empties
                                                            have you heard the good news that Iesu died for us and rose again?
                                                                           no.
                                                                                          I memorised everyone at St Vincent’s last name
                                                                                          in my class
                                                                           wow!
                                                                           the busker’s only word
Fred
in sidewalk cement
people who use the word deplorable
snobs are those ill at ease with themselves?
               golf balls & kangaroo dung
                              I like the word ‘model’
                                             it’s a very looky sort of place
                                                            the whole car’s a handbag
                                                                           Seduced Hair
cowshit plaster for a pond?
               Love, love me do!
                              the analyst said
                              I don’t even know you
                                             I get an electric shock from water
choke
on an imaginary conversation
               I’m a zombie without a voice
                              they’re all good people
                              I spose
                                             bus stop, he shouts:
                                             one church is enough!
                                                            I didn’t want to get all feministy and human rightsy
                                                            about it
                                                                           couplets
                                                                           and shit
Owen Bullock is a New Zealand poet who has been resident in Australia whilst completing a PhD in Creative Writing at the University of Canberra, looking at the poetry of Alistair Paterson, Alan Loney and Michele Leggott. He has two new collections forthcoming in 2017: semi (Puncher & Wattmann) and Work & Play (Recent Work Press).
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alarms
               I’m a smallish medium
               and in China I’m extra large
                                             if I were an author
                                             I’d write a book called . . .
                                                            bleeding without glasses
                                                                           hiding in junk mail
                                                                                          I see a dog in italics
                                                                           that sounds experiential
                                                            it took me to a place
                                                            that I wasn’t
                                             initiate the force field!
                              clouds contain sentient bacteria
               the fire alarm is still singing
found myself in this paper bag
& just kept talking
seek me out
in a well-lit corridor
               ayayah!
               the bird calls
                              she wears
                              anti-facial recognition make-up
                                             Aint Skeered
                                                            we all self-helped each other
                                             there will be mummy and daddy words
                              it throws the potter
U
               Dunfermline’s like a mini Edinburgh
               multicultural caffees and stuff, ken
                              have you come far?
                                             to befriend the arsonist
                                             I’ll wear a bikini
                                                            to listen to Vivaldi’s Summer
                                                            p cannot validate q
it’s like the beginning of a hologram
painted or unpainted
buckled, unbuckled
               I would have changed the loudness of London
serviettes on the floor
                              grey quartz and black tourmarine
                                             ivy and valerian
a seat named after them
               ants might get me fingers!
                              beer is food
                                             no animals to attract
                                             or defend themselves from
                                                            we’re outdumbered
another sock in the road
               are you a collector or a classifier?
swell & surge
slip & skip
               every man and his dog’s got a dog
                              the chattering classes
                                             I don’t know what ta-boo-lay is
                                                            Swiftly see each moment flies
                                                            See and learn be timely wise
                                                            Every moment shortens days
                                                            Every pulse beats time away
                                                            This the every heaving breath
                                                            Wafts onto eternal death       (Anon)
kneeding & clawing
nettles & stones
               he also believed in other more dodgy things like
               honesty and goodness
                              Crabber’s Nip
they have the correct apple pie to custard ratio
the best fish ’n’ chips so far
power lines
moss dangles
               treasure every sighting
                              I never stopped wanting to be sophisticated
                                             in the supermarket twilight zone
                                             me and Brian Clough were crocodile ghostbusters
to celebrate the nooks & crannies
of god
               a laster
                              you can buy sexy mother-pucker lipstick
                                             Buddha irradiates the wonderful energies of Healing, Luck,
                                             Abundance and Happiness eternally.
jewels in church and temple
ourselves manifested
               No! Smoking
                              Mixxed Vegetables
sultry noise
Ox
               that week I left the dishes
               vomit bags by my bed
                              No Pride in Genocide
                              Fuck Australia Day
                                             he robbed a bank with a cactus
                                                            garlic,
                                                            if there’s garlic!
flags in the ant hills
               her family
               had Sean Connery for their milk boy
               shaken not curdled
                              8.56
                              waiting for the shop to open
                              to buy a cake tin
he carries scales
up the mountain
gets an ant on his finger
licks it off
you mention the family
who lost a child . . .
a butterfly appears
               twice as worse
                              she was called a blue stocking
                                             mention humanitarian aid
                                             and the room empties
                                                            have you heard the good news that Iesu died for us and rose again?
                                                                           no.
                                                                                          I memorised everyone at St Vincent’s last name
                                                                                          in my class
                                                                           wow!
                                                                           the busker’s only word
Fred
in sidewalk cement
people who use the word deplorable
snobs are those ill at ease with themselves?
               golf balls & kangaroo dung
                              I like the word ‘model’
                                             it’s a very looky sort of place
                                                            the whole car’s a handbag
                                                                           Seduced Hair
cowshit plaster for a pond?
               Love, love me do!
                              the analyst said
                              I don’t even know you
                                             I get an electric shock from water
choke
on an imaginary conversation
               I’m a zombie without a voice
                              they’re all good people
                              I spose
                                             bus stop, he shouts:
                                             one church is enough!
                                                            I didn’t want to get all feministy and human rightsy
                                                            about it
                                                                           couplets
                                                                           and shit
Owen Bullock is a New Zealand poet who has been resident in Australia whilst completing a PhD in Creative Writing at the University of Canberra, looking at the poetry of Alistair Paterson, Alan Loney and Michele Leggott. He has two new collections forthcoming in 2017: semi (Puncher & Wattmann) and Work & Play (Recent Work Press).