20170113

Andrew Galan


Adam Baldwin in photographs from Appalachia


Adam Baldwin stands at a black dirt track derby car that screams, ‘Thanks Dad and Mom’.

Adam Baldwin walks under the count; Attendance Today: 23, Goal: 50, Attendance last Sunday: 31, Bus Attendance: [Blank], Total Contacts: 41.

Adam Baldwin lingers beside an Appalachian granny in yellow Sunday work wear.

Adam Baldwin weaves among four hoods in hoodies in a crusty ally.

Adam Baldwin rests near two hunters, a giant eskie, a gianter truck, all in a forest.

Adam Baldwin sinks proximate a child in blue onesie pushing toy pram and brown doll past day care.

Adam Baldwin appears to join massive Pumpkin Queen rolling by. Together they wave orange. The summer sky is overhead and fall their backdrop.

Adam Baldwin struts between enormous leafy tree trunks behind two multi-story billboards.

Adam Baldwin joins Tent 7:00pm Revival, goes left (their right).

Adam Baldwin nigh Lunch Meats, pauses.

Adam Baldwin fronts a jar full of dirty water and tadpoles.

Adam Baldwin attends spring evening with two women talking outside a tinsel shopfront, Bud and Coors neon is their frame.

Through it all Adam Baldwin wears tangerine, mandarin and mango layered beanie sent from far away home, and he says, ‘How's it sit? Pretty cunning, don'tchya think?’



A schedule remedies

A schedule remedies the imperial eagle.
Hugo had found colours muddied by travellers splashing into the gutter.

Its chance eye calls the alcoholic blackmail.
Hugo left because of taut plump skin. Strawberry curls. A forest. The weather.

The north flies.
He tries to sleep, it is pouring. The girl is face-down and flat on a green front lawn.

The field justifies the salt.
He isn’t trying very hard/He tries too hard. The ocean falls.

The failed policeman warps the leak.
Hugo isn’t on the run. It still puddles. Hugo doesn’t have energy for that.

A transient dealer yawns throughout an identifier.
Hugo knows why he has been brought here. The runoff. He doesn’t show it on his face.

The opinion repairs the subsidised bucket.
It doesn’t matter what Hugo says, it continues to flood.



An Elongated Street

It is an elongated street. There is nobody on it but you
and someone you know. You don’t recognise them
but know them.

It is refrigerator cold. A train rumbles through
and you stomp on a still brown leaf.

It scares them. They are beside you
holding on. You explain, it is already dead.





Andrew Galan is an internationally published poet and co-producer of renowned poetry event BAD!SLAM!NO!BISCUIT!. Described by reviewers as ‘riddled with satire’, his poetry is gut, direct, and imagination and reality meeting to eat and fight. Showcased at events including the Woodford, National Folk and Queensland Poetry festivals, and Chicago’s Uptown Poetry Slam, his verse appears in journals such as the Best Australian Poems, Jet Fuel Review and Cordite. That Place of Infested Roads (Life During Wartime) - KF&S Press, 2013 - is his first book. His latest is For All The Veronicas (The Dog Who Staid) - Bareknuckle Books, 2016.

www.andrewgalan.com/
 
 
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