Landscape Photography With Dogs by Coral Hull

DOGS & GODS

in the city botanical gardens i placed myself in
the company of unleashed dogs/ & as the dog turned
its cheek to view the blue sky so my cheek was
turned/ a shadow from its jaw bone cast across my
cheek bone/ then a flock of tawny birds fluttered
up from the grass & garden sprinklers/ & i soared
within their flight & was on fire with their wings/
wings which cast a shadow before the sun/ & so i
knew of birds/ their lighter spirits within the
heavy breast of flight/ & so i became a flightless
bird in the eyes of god/ what do dogs dream?/ in
the rise & fall of breath/ a twitch of soft tan
bristles, back pads trotting & a deep inside woof?/
do my dogs dream about me?/ if i were to disappear
would i live on in the eyes of them?/ would i be
reflected in the purpose of their wandering?/ in
their legendary search for origins?/ i have heard
that it is best for dogs to view the body as its
spirit passes on/ so like anger or fear it can be
passed through the heads & hearts of dogs/ & our
emotions pass through dogs like the open hands
of god/ they are not held nor trapped nor stored/
they are grasped & then gladly let go by the dog
who gladly loves you/ if i were to commit self
murder who would look after my dogs?/ they are the
reason i exist/ i was going to cut my wrists/ but
i had to get their dinner/ take them for a walk &
scratch them under their chins

ROSE STREET FRONTYARD VISIT

beneath the overgrown garden of rose bushes
planted by the newcomers/ i found the old
jagged pieces of concrete aligning the fence/
like grey shark fins burying themselves
into the ground/ & one side trellis still
intact & the 1960s backyard concrete cracked/
every crevice jammed with the metallic pulp
of insects from rainy weather or garden hose
drownings/ overall the house was still the
same/ but it was like trying to find life in
a dog that has died/
                             the peaceful brown eyes
like windows looking back upon its past/ &
for a while we linger by those soft brown
windows as a way into the dog's stillness/
& we hang onto collars until hours or years
down the track/ the dog becomes deader &
appears to take on its own death in a more
final way/ we are left holding nametags or
small portions of fur which we put into
paper bags, cotton or plastic/ everything
must move on as we all must bury our love
& lose balance/
                      i crept onto the newly tiled
verandah & touched a concrete box where i had
played with my plastic animals & planted
sunflower kernels/ which bloomed into bright
yellow flowers reaching up into the blue
light of childhood & as big as the sun/ i
found the box empty with a memory of the
yard in the age of the sunflowers/ then i
came like a child to the front door & the
old steel doorknocker was still attached to
the wooden rectangular panels/
                                             i knocked on
the door of something that could not answer
back/ like stroking the head of a dog above
its blank windows & whispering all the things
you would miss doing together into the space
of its ears/ & so i could hear the sound of
all the times our door was knocked on by the
outside world in the age of the doorknocker/
& the red brick fence was so much smaller
now that i had grown bigger like a shadow
absorbing the yard/
                            the people inside did
not hear my trespass/ as i looked into the
damaged back latch of number sixty-six in
the age of the letterbox/ mr poulton waits
for me & lights up a smoke in the overcast
twilight/ i turn away from the house unable
to bury it/ if another dog died i could not
throw dirt onto its clear brown eyes, drying
black nose & fiery mane/ i would turn away
& leave the body behind/ so it could fend
for itself & stink away to bones beneath
its cycles of weather

LANDSCAPE PHOTOGRAPHY WITH DOGS

the park is inside my dogs/ we hop out of
the holden on the edge of a picnic area/
ignoring the signs that prohibit dogs to
run without leashes/ kindi & binda release
themselves from the hot back seat to bound
through grasses wallaby related/ to vanish
above & below its tracks of dry waves as
though it were flowing/ past the flaky
grey bases of gums & old ten gallon drum
bins toppling over with drumstick wrappers/
the calm gradient of city parkland carries
their bellies along to the creek's hidden
edges/ i want my dogs to experience many
landscapes/ as dusk nuzzles up to my ankles
& to my dogs' noses turning damp & cold
fogging up the camera lenses/ they will
swallow or be swallowed by foreground
objects like barbecues or boulders/ they
will fade out over the round cupped edges
of hills into clouds that sink behind
themselves/ & appear like black specks on
the watery grey endings of dirty rainbows/
or disappear completely before emerging
again from forest darkrooms/ my dogs will
be unleashed so that they may contain the
landscapes inside themselves/ in australia
shadows of blue heelers, red kelpies &
photographers ignite along its huge crust
& vanish in an instant/ leaving behind
projected movement & dust-filled film
equipment/ & they may have left a passing
footprint in the sand/ & they may have left
a story for the rock

THE CHILDREN & THE DOG

mark carried the cardboard sign beneath his arm/ it
read: PUP FOR FREE/ 'do you think this will work?'
angela asked, looking up into his face/ 'yeah, it
should,' he said/ this is a very busy road/ cathy
held the plump tan pup close to her chest/ 'he's
bloated,' she said/ 'you shouldn't have fed him all
that weetbix angela/ i'm gonna get into trouble when
mum finds out'/ angela said, 'royce made me give it
to him'/ 'he was starving,' said royce/ 'he might have
been lost for days'/ mark turned to royce/ 'we'll
stay here with the sign/ you two girls go further
up/ that way passing cars will see the sign first
& then the dog'/
                       the big sky was forced westwards
with clouds like white sheep grazing towards the blue
mountains/ with sun & wind flying like kites/ the
patch-em-up dog caught cathy's eye & licked her
throat/ her cargo of fears contained within cars
speeding along the road/ the clouds could look
like children or dogs on some days/ many hours
passed/ royce got tired & lay down on the grass
near the gutter/ 'i have a bad feeling,' said angela/
'i feel sick'/ 'it'll be all right,' said cathy/ kicking
tufts of clover in a little centred heap/ 'someone
will take him'/
                    'but your dad says he has to go to
the pound or you'll be in big trouble'/ 'we've still
got until the end of the day,' cathy said/ late into
the afternoon every car shot by like a bullet/ no
one slowing down/ royce said, 'they're not even
seeing us/ i have to go home soon'/ angela prayed
into the dog's floppy ear/ hoping an adult in the
traffic might hear her/ the patch-em-up dog was
curled up in the grass/ 'they're all pricks,' cathy
said/ 'they don't care less about dogs/ & do you
know what a prick is?/ it's a man's cock'/
                                                            angela
said, 'i've seen a man's cock/ i watched it on a
movie at home/ a woman was biting it/ & the man
said, "suck on it like a lollipop bitch!"/ then he held
her head down & her arms were flying everywhere/
like she was a bird flapping her wings/ & her hair
was all messy like a bird's nest/ then white stuff
like cream came out of the man's cock & he let her
go/ & her eyes were rolling backwards & she couldn't
breathe properly/ & the man kicked her away & said,
"choke on that bitch!"/ do you think she died?'/ 'no,'
said cathy/ 'that wasn't cream/ that was sprog/ you
should know the right words'/
                                          do you know what fuck
means?'/ 'yeah,' said angela/ 'it's when a man goes to
bed with a woman with no clothes on'/ '& then what?'/
angela said, '& that's it!'/ 'right', said cathy/ '& do
you know what rape is?'/ angela said, 'yeah/ a man &
a woman go to bed naked/ & then the man gets a rake
& rakes her'/ cathy sighed/ looking down the road
into an adult world/ 'i don't believe they will take the
dog,' she said/ 'because they've got shit for brains
& they hate dogs/ my dad said, "what's the use of
dogs?/ you can't fuck 'em & you can't eat 'em"/ 'i
don't eat animals anymore,' she said/ 'i could be
eating someone's relative'/ she looked down at angela
lying in the clover/
                          'you must never get into a car
with anyone/ particularly a man or a sharpie'/ 'what's
a sharpie?' angela asked/ cathy said, 'it's a man who
sticks safety pins through his nose & through his
ears/ who eats flies & cuts his hair with razor
blades/ anyway, best not to get into a car with
anyone'/ 'even my parents?'/ 'no silly, they're all right/
i mean strangers/ relos are okay/ but maybe not aunts
& uncles/ neigbours are no good/ never get into a
car with them/ they'll take you out in the bush &
strip you naked/ you will never be seen again'/ angela
pointed to an old car that had slowed down near the
boys/
        'what about patch-em-up dog?' she said/ 'he will
have to fend for himself,' said cathy/ 'none of us are
allowed to have any more pets/ but i can communicate
with him psychically/ so we'll know where he is/ i
hope the boys don't get into that car/ we best get
back to them'/ an hour later the children & the dog
were outside the gates of the local pound/ cathy
lived up the road from it & the dogs yelped all
weekend when no one was there/ & they yelped on
week days during pound hours/ sometimes she couldn't
sleep on late summer nights/ because she thought
about the dogs/
                      mark led the others onto the council
grounds/ 'i'm afraid,' the dog said/ its head stretched
back on the collar/ 'don't be frightened,' said cathy/
'someone will buy you & take you home'/ & angela added,
'or we'll meet you in a better place where children &
dogs can live'/ royce took out his puffer & inhaled/ a
cloud passed beneath the sun/ his eyes searched his
feet for his own shadow but all the ground had
become darker/ 'we have no shadows, he said/ i've
got an aching leg & my bones are tired'/ mark being
the eldest, took the dog into the pound/ then the
sun came out & the council tree shadows spread &
shook at the grass/ & the childrens' shadows stood
beside them/
                   & everywhere a shadow was cast as if
the dog's absence was about to become apparent/ later
angela would fret/ not eating her tea for a fortnight/
& the dog turned & saw the children/ & the children
swam in the brown eye of the dog/ & it resisted its
leash wanting to spend the rest of its life with them/
'i want to grow old with you,' it said/ as it was taken
into the pound reception/ its four paws scraping
along the cement/ its tan neck wrinkled up from
looking back/ 'pounds are where the good dogs go,'
mark called out, 'because there are no bad dogs'/ a
year ago mark had gone to the r.s.p.c.a. at yagoona
with his father/ to do a school project on desexing/

& this is what he remembered seeing/ twenty-eight
soft paws in a wheelbarrow & loose necks with
UNWANTED written on the collars/ barrels & bins
of patch-em-up dogs to be incinerated/ & a house
sized pile of shadow dogs beneath thick plastic/ &
hundreds of closed & opened eyes in bags as high as
animal shelter walls/ dead dogs in truck loads to
the rubbish tip/ or blocking the drains beneath
suburban houses or stopping the waterflow of slow
creeks/ almost five years later, mark told a high
school counsellor/
                          'i could not comprehend dogs
stacked as high a a building/ malformed faces &
lost histories sweating beneath layers of plastic/
why were they ever born?/ this adult world building
its cities of dead dogs/ if i couldn't save the pup
what chance have i got to tear down the structures
of dogs?/ i have nightmares of being preserved beneath
the plastics/ the hot weight of squashed fur & gaseous
bellies taking my oxygen/ i am the dogs crying out
to a human society where no one will listen'/
                                                                & the
moment before the dog was taken cathy broke down/ 'i
don't want to live here anymore,' royce said/ 'maybe
it's the wrong place for children'/ mark said, 'i will
never leave you royce'/ & the dog's eyes said, 'i will
never leave you children'/ 'i think we might meet patch-
em-up in another place,' said angela/ 'or on another
planet or in another time/ do dogs go to heaven?'/ it
was as though there was a child inside the dog/ &
the child had four legs & a coat of fur instead of
clothes/ royce picked his nose & wiped it on his grey
shorts by the pocket/ 'i'm not gonna live to be an
adult,' he said/
                     his pale face & large black eyes like
a bat confused beneath the sun/ 'my mum & dad are
separating/ mark, have you ever been a victim of
crime?'/ 'no,' said mark, 'have you?'/ 'yes,' said royce/
'i walked into a shop when i was five & i was raped/
anyway, what football team are you barracking for
this year?'/ 'easts,' said mark, as he left/ royce
hovered around the high walls outside the pound/
too light for the earth's gravity & withdrawn/ his
skinny white legs growing on the gutter's edge like
roots/
        cathy said, 'those pricks have shit for brains/
they can only kill the body/ but patch-em-up is
inside all of us'/ 'i'm cold,' angela said/ 'i want to
go home/ it's getting late'/ cathy threw a rock up
the street & it hurtled crookedly along its own
scuttling shadow/ 'i don't like the dark,' she said/
'even in daylight/ tree shadows don't bark or wag
their tails/ & the shadows of flowers don't catch
a ball/ & they don't look back at you in the same
way that a dog does/ shadows don't require love/
nothing replaces dogs'/
                                 mark came back from inside
the pound/ 'the dog's gone,' he said/ if you could
imagine a young dog being led into the pound by a
stranger/ & away from the children who loved it
holding skies of tears inside/ then you would see
the back legs & long tail touching up & down on the
concrete & the lonely belly swaying with weetbix/
you will not want to see the dog's eyes or the cages
of yelpings before it/ an enormous blue horizon rolled
over into late afternoon/ lifting its mauve
blanket saturated with stars/ large streetlights
flickered orange to white on their splintery poles/

& five shadows fell down along the road towards the
dog pound & the sunset/ five shadows minus the patch-
em-up dog stopped dead at the brick/ four children
watch the skies of childhood diminish into adolescence/
they retreat to broken houses with pocket diaries &
chemist calendars/ where months hang from the walls
rather than in the sky/ where seasonal insects &
birds only reach as far as the flyscreens on the
wiredoors/ watched from inside the sky reddens & is
extinguished as fast as a match is lit & blown out/

tell the children to bury themselves/ to dig into
the soft earth of council gums & oleander trees/
as the wind comes to collect them like dandelions/
when the wind comes to their street to hurtle them
through time so that they must lose footing/ so that
they become birds thrown backwards or bees with
broken wings/ so that they must be shot away from
the street of childhood lawns & away from the dog
pound like five stars/ the children will become
exquisite light like sun behind sun showers & long
lines of rain pelting down/ the remnants of the
cardboard sign half buried in the ground

DIESEL

on the road from carins to normanton we picked
up a dog/ a couple of travellers told us to go back
down to charters towers/ & to take the one-lane
highway across to mount isa/ there had been rain/
but we chose to risk the section of unsealed road
along the bottom end of the cape york penninsula/
to view the queensland peppermint & river red gum
landscape/ & its constant expansion into kilometres
of giant plateaus & underground lava tunnels from
extinct volcanoes/ we chose to widen our knowledge
of roadside brolgas & dumped dogs like hitchhikers
waiting for a lift/ after light rain the normanton
road had expanded out into side lanes/ into large
bottomless pits deep & soft with mud/ new bitumen
strips stood high & dry in the middle/ with access
to them blocked by roadwork signs/ a couple of
tourists from holland took the detours & ended up
bogged up to the windows/ their white arms waving
from cars with mud pouring in/
on another lonely
stretch a man was trying to gas himself inside his
old bomb car with his german shepherd/ the dog's
horrible barking brought us to a halt/ i got out
to see what was the matter/ & his car door flew
open & he took off into the bush with his german
shepherd following him/ the dog's hysteria being
released like exhaust fumes into the stunted
growth/ on a very muddy section on which the e.h.
holden was skating/ we came across a muscular
black dog sitting on the side of the road/ it watched
us pass noticing our dogs in the back/ we slowed
down without stopping & i pushed my door open with
my foot/ i called out: come on come on/ & the big
black dog slid through mud/ it jumped onto my
lap/ its wagging tail slapping my chest & face/ the
bright orange clay flicking up onto the vinyl
ceiling & interior light/
adrian said: perhaps we
should go onto some properties & try to look for
the owner/ i said: no/ as harshly as if i had slammed
my foot onto the brakes/ there were hundreds of
properties out there hidden in the scrub/ amongst
drowned coolibah trees & sharp topaz jutting out/
i suggested we stick to the road & drive straight
to croydon/ when we got into town we filled the
tank with petrol/ then i went to the local shire
building & the town clerk tied the dog up to the
flagpole/ then a carload of locals drove past/ two
wheels of the mud splashed ute jumping up over the
gutter/ ripping into the sprinkler greened lawn/
the full round spotlight dangling crazily from the
roof & the wire caged section on the back mingling
with lunatic dogs/ in the front were thin-lipped
australians with deep squinting eyes, checked shirts
& dusty hats/ the chain rattled on the flagpole as
the dog began to gyrate/ diesel, one cried out/

so that the dog stood to attention & became darker/
then he hopped out of the ute & came up & shook my
hand/ the others observing me through the window
glass/ i could tell he would be the type to keep
his distance under normal circumstances/ but he
offered me reward money/ i didn't want any/ i saw
diesel washed clean by a brief shower & enthusiastic
stroking from her owner/ then her black shining
loaded into the back with the other dogs/ he said
that she had been missing for two days/ & that they
were heading back out into the scrub/ these men are
pig killers, i thought/ & compared my dogs' lives
to theirs/ i was pleased to have found their thick-
jawed dog/ but i thought of the dead black pigs
torn at the throat/ out there behind the bloodwood
& paperbarks in the queensland scrub/ tusks turned
upwards drinking in rain/ dried blood & the long
lashed eyes half-buried in mud