Owen Bullock
galahs drinking flowers spring in the middle of self-loathing poppy scent shouting from the water water lily at the door he gives me money for the kids I shant miss it 54 – my first time singing a love song to myself hilltop walking with a bit of a swagger meditation – whatever’s going on you listen morning after lockdown the lake bathed in short-sighted fog picking a vetch flower thankyou sweet scent the fiddler’s left hand bridge to that other world on the way to kindergarten the little girl stops to wave to the magpie native grasses collecting fallen leaves across the pond legs inverted, bouncing through water your blue veins just like mine, irises closing my eyes dreaming of daffodil scent the river here and here in the lake the silvered light – everything’s alright now, father covid walk a masked mum singing Yellow Submarine to the cradled spring rains my red red soup everywhere these riches leaf coins
Owen Bullock has published poetry, haiku, tanka and fiction; most recently, Uma rocha enorme que anda à roda (A big rock that turns around), translations of tanka into Portuguese by Francisco Carvalho (Temas Originais, 2021); Summer Haiku (Recent Work Press, 2019) and Work & Play (Recent Work Press, 2017). He teaches Creative Writing at the University of Canberra. He has a website for his research: https://poetry-in-process.com/ @OwenTrail @ProcessPoetry
Old Water Rat Publishing 