Laurie Duggan – (duggan)

Laurie Duggan

One-Way Ticket

what I have written
I have lost

what’s recorded
so much paper and celluloid

the 1974 of desire moves
through its lack of movement

a moment
a memento

a memory stick

a stack
of disks

a pile
of maps


worn down by detergents
I’m cleaner and smaller every day


the rain it raineth
on a dull tin roof

the anthologies arrive
the wars continue

mere anarchy

3 a.m. (or 3 p.m.)
the worst times

death &

photocopies of everything


What I thought was Mo
was Osama Bin Laden
(the face on a half-tone poster)

so where is Stiffy?
(and who is a friend of the groom?)


spin & spam
vs. art, dust motes

that lightness, something
almost not there

those undeniable venetians
that would argue a pattern

a flying-fish
glued to the refrigerator

a space under the stairs
where memory sits


circular paths
a wrought-iron gate . . .

distant apartments
pipes, wind-vanes

walking figures
along the rocks

old military medals
account books
chess pieces
a tripod

electrical wiring

a stop watch
a slide-rule
mathematical tables

a microscope

calling cards

a red coat
on a green chair

the smell of fish
fresh marinaded


cut & paste:
a generation thing?
mine?     the beginnings
of insincerity?     embrace
of the artificial?


there’s little sound
from down below

a mattock perhaps
at the edge of the pool

a moment to do nothing

bow wave of the ferry
slight aircraft noise

a chair is not a chair . . .

beached timber

smoke over Mt Gravatt

the tilers insert metal pegs
in the bottom of a wall

hammers echo across the river

already a heat haze at 8 a.m.


waves on the ceiling

tidal movements


an image of tired people in an airport lounge
painted by Michael Andrews:
The Last of Australia

coffee $3.25
black & white lines
dark wood

in the 33rd year &c; (58th)
the body
within its limits

or without


be grateful for stairwells

for art at altitude

(a Martin Sharp playing card
circa 1980
in thanks for East,

a tapa print,

collapsing Cuban
tobacco barns

on a green slope


after the encomiums
a bouquet

an apartment of flowers

a fluttering screen

papers in bulk
letters I may never read again

a month before jacaranda season


points of light





an orn-


over the fold of the map

driving on the wrong side of the world

return to SHAMPOO 36