Published in Overland Issue 206 Autumn 2012 · Uncategorized california Mathew Abbott the field out there is that expanse hazed in glary tired light the field gone to yellow at the endings birds are out in it and too much with us the passing of our train indistinct to them they know in the upwash finding shapes to split the flow fields the towns have the sense of being paraded the life in them stripped back to glint the turbines turn the head anemotropic hum the skull to juice the mind the field out there meets the field of the mind at the horizontal the faked water of the heat the turbines cut Mathew Abbott Mathew Abbott lives in Queanbeyan with his wife Emilie and his dog Champion Ruby. Australian Poetry will publish his first collection, wild inaudible, in April. He maintains a blog at beetleinabox.tumblr.com, and plays in Life and Limb, a punk band named after a Fugazi song. More by Mathew Abbott › 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 25 November 202425 November 2024 · Reviews Poetic sustenance: a close reading of Ellen van Neerven’s “Finger Limes” Liliana Mansergh As a poem attuned to form, embodiment, sensory experience and memory, van Neerven’s “Finger Limes” presents an intricate meditation on poetic sustenance and survival. Its riddling currents exemplify how poetry is not sustained along a linear axis but unfolds in eddies and counter currents. 22 November 202422 November 2024 · Fiction A map of underneath Madeleine Rebbechi They had been tangled together like kelp from the age of fourteen: sunburned, electric Meg and her sidekick Ruth the dreamer, up to all manner of sinister things. So said their parents; so their teachers reported when the two girls were found down at the estuary during a school excursion, whispering to something scaly wriggling in the reeds.
