Photo: Philip Hammial (2016 © Сашо Димоски-Sašo Dimoski)

Biography

Born & raised in Detroit, the D, Motown, the Motor City, a high energy city that’s nurtured a thousand world-class musicians—blues, R&B, soul, rock, hip hop, jazz … especially jazz: Yusef Lateef, Tommy Flanagan, Barry Harris … Teenage hood, 4 Ford V-8s, a Rocket 88 Olds. 3 years in the engine rooms of 2 U.S. Navy ships. University on the G.I. Bill, honours in English Lit & Philosophy. A total of 11 years travelling in 85 countries, the first 5 hard-class, hitchhiking around Europe, through the Middle East, India (know anyone who has hitchhiked in India?) SE Asia, Japan, Africa (hitchhiking: Nairobi to Cape Town, 7 days in a truck, Nairobi to Juba). Arrived in Australia in 1972, became a citizen as soon as dual-nationality was okay with the Yanks. More travel: India 5 times, China 4, Tibet 2 (a dream come true) Africa 6. Hospitalized in 5 countries, 11 broken bones, brutally attacked in rural India by 17 young men with hard wood sticks, saved at the last moment by a train station master & a saddhu. 4 near-death experiences. Volunteer fire fighter with the local bush fire brigade, 8 years. Vintage BMW motorcycle. Favorite sport: hopping freight trains (U.S.). 6 months as an orderly at a psych hospital (Ohio). 90 days on the Lincoln Continental assembly line, Detroit. 40 published poetry collections, 2 short-listed for the Slessor, 1 for the ACT Poetry Book Prize. A selected from Sheep Meadow in NY. Poems in 38 poetry anthologies in 7 countries, in 140 journals in 18 countries. 14 international poetry festivals. Australian writer-in-residence for 6 months at the Cité Internationale des Arts in Paris. Director of the Australian Collection of Outsider Art, 26 exhibitions in 5 countries. A sculptor, 33 solo exhibitions; in 78 group shows, 2 in Paris. Now: a boring old man with too many stories.

—Phil Hammial

Poems

Voice Snags

Did you notice the red-headed Christmas monk
on the runaway people-mover? No. Where we go
no gifts go. On that you can depend, i.e., you can bet
your sweet ass on it. They came as one (who?) left
as twenty-seven. Seems we were three too many. 
Your choice of career moves 
—slip or slide. Which came first, scrutiny or jam jars? Bossa Nova
is my go-to. For? Whatever. You forgot to factor in
the gee whiz equation. Why have you chosen
to live in a box (the English language canon)? 
So contained, may your wisdom prevail. A chance
in ten thousand by my reckoning. At
the Governor’s pleasure he stood by guns
(in the hands of Slessor judges). No sooner on
than off, the emphasis. Some say that the laureate
specializes in right-handed scams. Even
buxom friends betray. Against all odds
he managed to ring the bell. He licked the mike,
thought it was an ice cream cone. He tried the
he’s-just-having-a-fit approach. It failed
miserably. Water dumps D.O.A. Just as well
they don’t have teeth. We could make a heist movie.
I’d rather make a live chat. He’ll only be seen with us
if we don’t make fun of his painted nails. At his best
he’s a Nelly on a porch. At his worst … the guy
with the stop-watch timing our squeals of joy
when the limousine with the polies takes a flip
flop, becomes a panel-beaters dream come true.
True or false?—septic shock can kill. This war
is not the main game. A mother load
is easy to bear. Daddy Longlegs? Obviously
he’s put a spell on her. Can we persuade him
to take it off? Easy done, get down on your knees
& polish the shoes on those feet. Did
you happen to notice how Lenny defended the rights
of the lap dancers at Chez Parakeet?

Party On

Payola’s stem guy misbehaving at Miss Angelica’s
coming-out party, a closer look revealing that it’s just
another cup & saucer escapade. Me? I wasn’t
in the Gloria Gaynor crowd, if only I had been.
Gloria, please sing the Albatross Song. I shall
eventually eat. Hip & shoulders & gas between.
Give Angus a wave. Are you aware that Angus thrives
on the Ordinary? You are now. And Jim (Jim Dandy)
with his monkey bunions that hamper his dancing.
Poor guy, reduced to an old man’s shuffle.
Be careful of them churches in Vegas. They Outlaw
Churches. And forget getting a handle on Christ.
That handle’s on a door that opens on a void. Correction:
The Void, the one & only. When you’re all tuckered out
lie your good self down on the nearest bed. I’m off
to the Other Side, back soon. Ever tried sycophancy?
I’m all fives & I’m on your side. That look on your face
suggests a horse before cart convulsion. We share a minder—
Jack, Jack of in-the-box fame. That judge who scheduled us:
wouldn’t know his ass from a donut. The tell-tale clutter
that is my brain. Got any food for? A stalker in white, syringe
poised. Love these full-bodied hallucinations. Pants down,
another short-arm inspection, the fifth today. What’s
that noise? Sounds like a dozen cats on heat. It’s just
the Timbuktu Symphony tuning up. Kick Ass in C-Minor.
Let’s make it our song. Let’s not & say we did. That
payola guy makes a complaint we slip him a 50. Remember
Clyde (Ward 12) who loved the ECT ritual? Jake who
hid razors under his mattress? Kenneth who
spoke of himself in the 3^rd person—Kenneth is happy …
Kenneth is angry … If only he’d known that
down from On High Glory is coming.

The

The red roof spooks my bone marrow.
The gist is hiding in the garden.
The tender night is oozing grammar.
The palpitation brings the house down.
The priest is silenced by a flea.
The mistress was last seen in a Bolivian submarine.
The plan fails to consider the zeppelin.
The majority is breeched by the minority.
The juggernaut comes to a screeching halt.
The dead are granted a stay.
The three oligarchs were dispatched by the same hand.
The winners are strangled by the losers.
The doubters keep the punters at bay.
The here & now arrived too late.
The Messiah fails to materialize.
The seers are channeled by the cherry pickers.
The chimney sweepers are smoked by the dog minders.
The caissons stopped rolling in ’19.
The eight-percenters refuse to doff their hats.
The dissolute exchange vows with the star struck.
The vulnerable go up against a wall of abuse.
The body slammers refuse to dip their wicks.
The two-timers choose not to walk the walk.
The groom exploits the bride’s separation anxiety.
The recently emboldened denigrate their betters.
The hale take issue with the hearty.
The bowlers have no compassion for the bowled.
The happy-go-lucky demand a royal commission.
The down & outers get their money’s worth.
The clock-watchers have their fingers on hair-triggers.

Shiver & Shake

Mom, are you available for junction?
You bread me. I turned out butter, melting.
She reckoned I was less, not even remotely more.
Early on I learned the conjure up lesson: only
cook what you can swallow without choking.
Take this candy & throw it.
Deft is who gets it right.
If I leaf you will you bark me?
Pure of waist, he was knee filthy.
After his third wheelie he died.
Died upright, not to be confused with up & running.
If only Trouble had come wrapped in red ribbon.
Knots, nothing but knots in my life.
When I get bad they get badder.
Hey Pretty Pants whose goat did you get?
Give me minute to set the dark
Write a few, lose a few.
My pratfalls have too much prat.
If you insist on taking a tumble tumble one for me.
He succumbed to a zoo growl.
Some say he was a back-grabbing bastard.
He’s been likened to one of those vitamin varmits.
Self-turning wheels are not to be trusted.
If it pleases you we can a-mincing go.
Which rain came first is a question that has no answer.
It’s my turn to trip the light fantastic. Got one to spare?
That song really got to me.
It pummelled me with moonlight.
Shows you up: her ability to convincingly shiver.
Shake no more, Daddy’s here.

Tango

I’m about to plug me a fashion.
Is it true that the guy next door is a fascist?
Better believe it. He only salutes flesh & blood,
will only embrace candy-counter triplets.
Hawkers welcome if they can catch-scan.
Takes one to grovel on a feather-strewn floor.
Bugger whatever is presented on a silver tray.
Lord of spit & shine, your march to the saints
come marching in is to be commended for its
strict adherence to the rule that equates two wrongs
make a right with a pig in an air-conditioned poke
demanding that her rights be respected.
One of my incantations coming your way, might
be an idea to duck.
Just been jacked by Sue & her seven Back Street 
Caballeros. Horse on, horse off, make up your mind ’for
I make it for you.
Hitched a ride on the Mule Express, got there
just in time for the massacre.
Day for night & all is well on Stumblebum Street.
We thought Teddy was tried & true; turns out
he was tied & blue.
Name your price. Six slices of bread + butter.
Take it or leave it.
The name of the game is Once in a yawn.
Y’all speak Kentucky, hearing which I confess
to utter bafflement.
Careful, that guy is capable of tangoing you
to a less-than-desirable end.
You got it wrong, the guy next door is a lefty
with lock, stock & barrel inclinations.

Starfly

Starfly! Got myself some funk muscle.
Flew me up to the fifth
of what I'll never forget: that all-in
kick-start on Jesus which
prompted me to cancel the lamb chase, Boogie 
obviously wearing the wrong shoes, those
three funks in three hours some kind of a record
enabling me with a better tease than what you got:
Forty miles of all for nothing. Dirty band equals
dirty fans who go bully (girls & boys). You like
being Billy? Didn’t see that coming. Not
one of your best door-openers. Was about
to break bread with the Chowdry Boys when
in comes Charles the Rake with three angels in tow.
They came with rope & were skipping.
I stayed with prayer, something I knew
I was good at. Compensates for my reluctance
to jump for Jesus. Up & at ‘em not my forte.
Mine is the only apple. Name my pansy.
Do a Ben Carter as per my instructions.
Pay no mind to that sorghum shitfight.
Put a sting on that part of you that hurts most.
If you have stakes drive them in. Guess
how my joy is measured. In kilos? Horsepower?
Clue: Does a sand shifting every morning; does
a majesty interruption when the clock strikes twelve;
fakes a sound when the time is ripe. If you’ve guessed
that this is the part where we wed you’re right.
Conclusion: there’s no other way to say it—
on the count of three: Get up out of that chair
& gravitate to what’s been deemed The Splendid!

Peabody Buttons

Peabody buttons are caps for the mad.
& render me so. Tick tock tumble. Squawk news
of merry wars. Plant peas in perfect shells from
the Butternut Sea (read Saragosa) where Eve
was seen to nurse a shark. Planetary quibbles 
what we do best. School yard bullies gathered here.
From None no one exempt. Thrice ECTed 
& the game is over. No winners.
Where we’re going there’s no gravy. 
Fanny left in the lurch, Frank left in church. 
Post everything, i.e., there never was prelapsarian. 
Dog collars were never optional. 
God’s police? They’re watching us. Wrong
end of the telescope. They soup & bread us twice daily.
How about we hightail it to Frank’s fish emporium. 
Ward Master more arms than an octopus.
Forget-me-nots good for nothing. 
Odds will NEVER get us evens. 
Sour potatoes & stone peas good enough
for the likes of us. All a bunch, north & south,
of Yankee doodlers. Nomenclature not admissible
in this court. Smoked & stubbed out. Without
permission tinkered with. Foretasted is forewarned?
Not for these yokels. They’ll never admit that they’re 
spooked by Henny Penny’s candle obsession. When
she said “I’m my own exalted company of one”
I thought it best not to tell her that the magpie
had replaced the canary for mine-testing.
Did you say mime testing? No, I said crime questing.
You name it I’ve got a handle on it. What book
did you last peruse? Pieslicer’s Luck by Pye Spoon.
Where we’re going there’s no bowl.
Quicksilver folds are coats for the mad.

Twos

We came with knives & forks
& left with candles.

An advocate of knock ’em down
& drag ’em out poems he …

Fog is a room with no doors, no windows;
are we here for keeps?

Time goes marching on
accompanied by saints.

Victory, having gone to the halt,
how could it not to the lame?

In these two cups:
the fruit of our labour.

After the toast to Jack Jill
threw her glass against the wall.

Your double or nothing
is five nods short of a scream.

The Party had millions
to blow on toothpaste.

The result of that snarl
is one for the book.

Our entanglement owed its success
to a cache of peppercorns.

What you came & saw was the biggest
glue-up in Naval history.

Mildred & the six Annies came to the party
in sassafras gowns.

If you behave yourself
a stranger will come & comb your hair.

At table I’m all for the fury of table;
in chair I’m all for the quench of chair.

If you have anything that doesn’t smack of Rhodesia
put it on the table where we can see it.

Can’t remember when the roar machine
last produced a bar of gold.

Buckle up & sing
has Sandra baffled.

He was tied in the British sense
to a lion hunt.

If it’s all the same to you
I’ll impinge on your gun status.

The snow parade was cancelled;
we marched anyway.

A flower on the wall signifies
a flower on the wall.

When Alabama welcomed kink
we kicked off our shoes.

Tag: sculpture