Or this – I have an autistic child, and

when she repeats the whole Catholic Mass

at lunch the medical team call it echo-

lalia. Dock their lunch says Bruce, say

hello to reverse red tape prejudice

The trees won’t chop themselves down

unless you show them patiently, by
analogy. We had to gaol your combine

harvester say the police, it was doing

something wrong. It was Sunday, but

luckily I have an arm so I could chisel

my way in to the yard. Wrote a speech for

Stump Sunday: it was not complimentary

to your Christmas lights or the way you
arrange the white bread in your summer
pudding. Someone’s captain’s visor

slips out of the op-shop. Ghosts don’t

vote or they’d scare the Liberal Party

My voice was caught in a wombat burrow

by the time the night was over. Coral’s

gutless that’s its problem. Practically by

definition, a predator’s unseen till too late
Bruce is an asset: no matter how much

nothing there is to do, he’s always done

the least. He was in no rush for a handbag

made from a native bird. The young bull

fell in love with his father in the mirror and

his mother in his sister, it’s classic husbandry

In the paranoid waiting room, the weather’s 
a major distraction, the TV appears to think
Speech patterns flatten this route, raise

the other. The gate indicates all kinds of

inclusions, performing none. The re-

ligious fallback itself begins to fall. I

have an autistic lyrebird and it covers

its head when we go to bed. The kids

were braver than those raised on abstract
mammals. Up a ridge and down a gullet

No, I won a bag of coal, and won’t let it be

burned, that’ll show the desert. I wanted to

show my upset sister how family war’s an

antidote to the world. She took the glocken-

spiel out of my hand and sang a G’day that

cracked the water tower, raked the hay, shaded 
the sun and set the snake and mongoose free