Samuel Wagan Watson

Circa September, 2015
Powerhouse Museum, Sydney

I first admired your arms, brown and unrefined like mine, the scars and veins unhidden. Straight
back. Strong neck. An inanimate object that would never be cau ...

For my late mentor,
(Kumantjayi) Uncle Martin Harrison

Be sharply accustomed to the anatomy of your writing; inside and out...Where you have
slivered the bones of your storyline, mark the points of ruin and resurrection ... Count the
gouges ... Here is where you lunged ... Careful! ... There was a finely delivered se ...

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for Aunty Suzie Wilson

We’d often give Dad a lift to work along this bent stretch of the river.
Maiwar curved here like a boomerang hook. Ghosts that tasted heavy
of pork bones hung in the dawn; most of Murrarie had been invaded by
K.R. Darling Downs. You would almost hear the unified groan at 5 am,
when all the workers formed a single-file; it wa ...

Where Logan Rd and Creek intersect there used to be an old
gas station that looked beat even when it was new. You could
feed a fuel-pump shiny 20-cent pieces at any hour of the day
when petroleum was 17-cents a litre. The solid steel rods of the
tram lines were stapled into the Earth, under Kagaar Mabul;
home of the s ...