I
my father sends me a christmas card with ten dollars
in it/ & a note: going out bush for three weeks/ be
back in january/ ring you when i get back/ before he
goes he picks carrots & cabbages from his garden &
mows the lawn & hoses it down/ he tidies the kitchen
& dries the sink with a tea towel & hangs it off the
tap/ fluff sticking to the schooner glasses/
dad says:
the garden's got too many vegetables in it/ i've
bundled up a few but they're too fucken lazy tar come
& get 'em/ they want me tar deliver & cook 'em/ i
carn't force feed 'em though/ he complains of the garden
rotting/ whilst dole cheques & pensions are spent on
'sugar water' & 'vinegar chips'/
he says: don't send
me any cards at christmas/ it gives me the shits/
people sittin' 'round with tinsel on their heads
gorgin' 'emselves with peanuts/ then throw all the
cards out the next day/ i bundled up all my cards &
put 'em in the kerosene heater last winter/ i was
orf the grog for a while then/ but now i'm back on
it/ so i'm going out tar the bush for a while tar
dry out
II
gary robert hull - joined n.s.w. police force in 1956/
stationed at no.10 division - paddington head station/
out stations: bondi (druggies & beach thieves)/ the
gap (where everybody jumps off)/ rose bay (home of
perverts & prowlers & peeping toms)/ joined as a
probationary constable & studied for twelve months/
there were about one hundred-&-thirty men in our
class including four railway detectives/ they gave us
'webley scott" pistols eight shot/ fall to pieces in
your hand/ very accurate/ aim at the pistol range
target & nearly blow your foot off/ only half of the
bullets would go off/ better off carrying rocks in
your pocket/ if you wasn't a good rock thrower forget
about it/ i was okay coming from the bush/
about
eighteen years ago there were only about six left
in the job/ some left, died or jailed for murder,
or stealing etc/ one of them (no name) organised
an armed robbery/ got caught, jailed/ four crims
put his head in a vice & rooted him/ the vice crushed
his skull but they kept doing it knowing he was dead/
(so the crims 'lifers' got life)/
we used to go up
past dover heights to the gap/ that's where all the
idiots used to jump to their death/ the old skinny
sergeant showed me the ropes/ the first jumper i
experienced i said: i'll go out & try to pull him
to safety on that ledge/ the sergeant said: don't be
fucking stupid/ watch me i've been doing it for
years/ he walked about five yards off the bloke &
said: jump you bastard or i'll push you off/ the
bloke ran from the ledge & up to me & said: will he
do it?/
i said: yep/ has pushed heaps off/ saves
paperwork/ the sergeant said: throw him in the van/
we'll take him to the giggle house in darlinghurst/
on the way there he said: when you get a message at
the station that you've got a jumper at the gap/
take your time/ have a drink of coffee/ gives them
time to jump/ & remember don't go near them or the
bastards will push you over with them
III
my father is going out to a property up near walgett
on the back roads/ & away from the river country into
new territory/ he says he cannot stay there for long
as it gets too lonely/ besides the property's got no
river/ just flat vegetation & a water tank/ my father
can't stand to be away from the river & birdlife/
which is where he sits & thinks/ whilst he picks his
toenails & throws in a line/
my father worked as a
railway detective on central station in sydney/ now
he is central movement on the darling river back-
blocks/ he moves like an emu moves to the water tank
& this is significant/ we both know that he will die
in the bush/ i told him i would rather throw him on
a bull ants' nest than bury him in a sydney cemetery/
dad said: when you're at my funeral i want you to
say/ oh well you can't cry over split milk/ then get
a bottle of overproof rum & stick it into the ground
to give me a drink/ my father will not caretake the
walgett property for long/ says he is hemmed in by
trees/ he likes to look out from the homestead to the
great plains/ so he can see the afternoon sky turn
crimson with corellas, galahs & black ducks/
once i
got in an inflatable canoe when the darling was on
the rise/ & paddled from brewarrina to bourke in four
days/ the kooris on the opposite bank shouted out:
where ya goin' whitey?/ i said: tar bourke/ tar bourke?/
they laughed/ yar fucken mad!/ my father knows that
the river carries his thoughts through landscapes
whilst he squats like a boulder on its edge/
& extra
water is his telegram of rain from queensland/ & in
the dusk he will roll a smoke & think about brewarrina
streets 'so quiet that you could shoot a bullet down
'em'/ & how no one in rose street trusted him being
an ex-cop/ because 'once a cop always a cop' or 'there's
only one thing worse than a cop & that's an ex-cop' or
'once a policeman never a man'/ my father's laughter
replaces the kookaburras who have been all shot out
IV
i was learning how to work traffic/ some intersections
eight lanes wide/ stinking hot weather with hot coat/
& woollen trousers/ woollen cap - sweat box uniform/
then pouring rain - large heavy raincoat/ when waving
arms in air rain used to run down your back/ drunks
spitting on you from trams & buses/ plus throwing
cigarettes & empty bottles/ plus wind blowing cap
off/ trams run over them/ move two feet left or right/
tram would run over you/ wished i was back at bondi
chasing dogs & serving summons's/
next day a train
to cronulla/ a pervert walked up the aisle & exposed
his penis to a woman in the carriage/ i walked up &
arrested him/ as i was taking his particulars near
the open doorway/ he jumped from the train/ the train
was travelling at high speed/ haven't seen him since/
his hat fell on the floor near the open doorway so i
kicked that out too/ the old saying in the police
force/ if they get away don't report it/ only when
you catch them/ otherwise you are classed as an idiot/
another time i was working in the office when a
fisherman came in & said: there's a dead body
floating in the river this side of the weir/ we
jumped in the van & went down/ we saw the body all
swollen up/ been in the water about two weeks/ went
back to station/ more reinforcements - boat, oars-
went back to river/ senior constable grabbed the body
by the head & it came off in his hands/
put the head
in a bag & rowed back to bank to get net to throw
around body/ it was rotten & smelt/ (same as gas you
use to cook with)/ we all went up the bank & had a
double overproof rum/ sprayed perfume on our
handkerchiefs/ & masked our noses to prevent the
sour stench/ the body was eventually taken to the
morgue/ male about forty-five years old/ six
foot two inches, solid build/
i felt sorry for the
scientific detective/ who had to peel the skin off
the wrist & fingers/ dead human finger print glove/
his teeth were circulated for dentist inspections/
photo of him was also out in various newspapers/
however he could not be identified/ even the missing
persons bureau could not help/ no brands or tags on
his clothing/ he was buried 'name unknown'/ i would
say he was an immigrant/ as scores of them were
drowning in rivers all over new south wales/
when i
was eleven years old one of them drowned at bre/ most
of them came from cold countries overseas & couldn't
swim/ the new australian at bre just vanished out of
sight in the middle of the river/ as i walked down
the bank/ two dark abo kids said that he slipped into
deep water near the edge/ he came up struggling three
times then disappeared/ the aboriginal kids wouldn't
try to save him/ said it's the spirit's way/ said the
bunyip got him/ if we try to save him the bunyip
take us too
V
the wind rushed along the yellow land from the grey
south/ parting the warm fringe of crops & the oily
fleece of scraggy sheep/ the wind gives voice to the
telecommunications wire/ high-pitched frequencies ring
out amongst clouds/ eerie conversations over parched
long distance land & dried up claypans/ sweat creeps
around my father's ears & sinks into his shirt collar
which hangs off him like watery jewellery/
he turns to
the property fence with the taste of human salt in his
mouth/ he will never go back to sydney/ he calls it
the big smoke/ his blue heeler bitch is glued to his
footsteps/ she follows his thoughts & simple silence/
like a trick of light or shade depending on the hour/
she is never far away from a car ride to the tip/ or
a bolt down the river bank to chase some pelican into
dehydrated flight/
my father's deep green eyes hold
the outback sun/ every twenty-four hours the sun sets
in them & night comes on/ like the sydney nightmares
that follow him to his sleep or the lights that come
on in central station/ today a wedgetail eagle is
displayed on the property fence/ its titled feathery
head still responsive to moisture & breezy weather/
& the red sun bright on its feathery crown as if to
make it grow again/ as if to bring it back up into
the sky it was born in/
a wedgetail eagle is spread-
eagled on the fence/ master of the barbed wire &
n.s.w. outback property horizons/ looked upon by
no one except the wild pigs & the ex-cop on the edge/
one eagle's dead eye never so close to an unfriendly
earth/ its hooked black beak tightly closed to the
worlds surrounding it/ the swaying northeast of yellow
snake-infested wheat & misty clouds of chemicals/ the
huge degraded bird hangs on the barbed wire/ as native
mice scamper beneath its talons curled in like cramp