Saturday, July 16, 2011

Rain. No Work. A poem from my book Real Face

I wish I were back in dusty Dubbo
cutting asparagus on Edgell's farm
I'd break my back to earn a quid.
Or chipping weeds 12 hours each 20k day
on the black dirt paddocks of Collarenebri,
I'd do the 60 hour week
tempt the sun to make me weird.
I'd roll on vines in Mildura
pick apples in Tassie
cherries in Young
anywhere away from here.
But darling it's raining
and the gold nuggets have
washed away in the flood.


  1. Always loved this - and the whole book, of course. :)

  2. PS You need to tell readers of your blog where to get your books.