Owen Bullock
Owen Bullock’s most recent publications are Work & Play (Recent Work Press, 2017) and Semi (Puncher & Wattmann, 2017). He teaches Creative Writing at the University of Canberra.
previous page     contents     next page
originary
push the noise away
father and son through the desert
light comes from many directions
one
looks at the other’s ink blots
wondering if they’re better
first
learn rules of engagement
(no one remembers to tell you)
they look alike they’re the same height
but they’re not
they have the same haircut
but they don’t
                                                            *
the castle
hangs in the air
a studded abyss
an exterior surface D-rings
that won’t let you in
spikes keep off
a padded seat but no sitting
the citadel
empty
                                                            *
                              we
                              killed
                              the gods –
                              what god
                              survives?
                              our names
                              written
                              on
                              a
                              plinth
               in stone a dozen times
Riding
                                             taking them for a ride
                                             a helicopter
                                             at the showgrounds
The President focusses on “getting bad people out of this country.” To build a wall, a wall to Mexico.
                                             magpie
                                             at the end of a cross pole
                                             launches
“Get out of my country,” the gunman says in a bar in Kansas, as he shoots and kills an Asian Indian
man who’s lived and worked in America for years. The gunman wounds a local who tries to intervene
and flees the interstate border. Eventually he’s arrested.
                                             eyes dead
                                             his mouth turned down . . .
                                             a helicopter whirrs in the distance
A place for the Phantom
The Phantom escapes again. Train to Liverpool. Bribes passage to Australia. A tiny porthole,
sea-sickness twists his body into half a man, and half again – many’s the time he thinks he’s
died. The ship in early, he disembarks on a rope. Spends six months scrimping, delivering
pizza. Gives himself up to the authorities, who pardon him. Goes back to music: church
organ, retro bands, teaching, and after five years a steady gig. Hear him each Sunday at the
Carillon on Lake Burley-Griffin, with those other-worldly bells.
reel
we have to prioritise our tantrums
               on my to do list: choose happiness
                              fifty years later she realises
                              she’d been beautiful
                              in the place where they ate
                              ice cream with forks
                                             we turn into reflections
                                                            it’s not tea-towel over your shoulder time any more
                                                                           I have no heart, just a stupid brain
                                                                                          did ee put sugar?
                                                                                                         when you buy it you want it
                                                                                                                        I’ll be back now chef!
                                                                                                         he’s a bit on the spectrum or something
                                                                                          hey, why don’t you sit down and play us that
                                                                                          Fire Hose Reel
                                                                           I won’t eat your bagel
                                                            the pigeon wants to mate with me
                                             the scent of daffodils along the corridor . . .
                              looking down another way of looking behind
               high heels in the sand
a man wanders into the day and says
possibly
               I’ll be five minutes early for destiny
Owen Bullock’s most recent publications are Work & Play (Recent Work Press, 2017) and Semi (Puncher & Wattmann, 2017). He teaches Creative Writing at the University of Canberra.