Published in Overland Issue 259: Feb/Mar 2026 · Poetry Emperor Topher Boulton Her wrist distant on the wheel, the girls otherworldly; glass of the car conducts the sun to skull demitasse and let develop there in this conspiracy: an Emperor second, a minute peach, the meat of which is a night of my life, the name of a drink I can never tell you. Topher Boulton Topher Boulton is a Victorian writer and artist whose work moves between poetry, image and sound. More by Topher Boulton › Overland is a not-for-profit magazine with a proud history of supporting writers, and publishing ideas and voices often excluded from other places. If you like this piece, or support Overland’s work in general, please subscribe or donate. Related articles & Essays 18 September 202618 September 2026 · Poetry having a sweetie Gareth Morgan o unfathomable lack! unbelievable luck … really, you wouldn’t believe me my pollen grows in the dark my pollen reeks like bed sheets/br 5 November 2025 · Poetry Force posture agreement Miroslav Sandev The men of Darwin have all taken their rottweilers / out for a walk at the same time. / For our protection. Like Pine Gap: / all those big white eyes that scan / the darkening horizon. / The eyes stay woke, so that we may sleep. / Or so they say.
