Published in Overland Issue 247 Winter 2022 · Poetry Poetry | log joanne burns dream’s letterhead lies exhausted in the recycling bin someone is so awake to the moment the black opulence of the room at 4am a hello new day screen lights up bulletins of hydrated news beyond the equator to the hinterlands the call for an ambulance: pinch and panic breath hangs like fake asanas as the dawn filters through pull the zip on that pocket cathedral a numerology of banks stands guard a chai t-bag dangles in its water a pendulum of angst that moment of a final moment a rolling stone so kitsch it rhymes with home the moment when prognosis slides towards you along the gleaming river of linoleum adjacent to the vending machine and the donated monet apparitions on the wall your coin is rejected in the darkness of the slot you still crave that salty snack joanne burns joanne burns is a Sydney poet. She is currently assembling a new manuscript of recent works: rummage. More by joanne burns › 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 8 March 20248 March 2024 · Poetry POETRY Gareth Morgan as if a poem were a person, me, i get up in the morning / i buy coffee in a can, and wait / you have to keep calm, “don't get upset” / or it fucks everything up. the bosses who tell me this / are wise but stupid troopers. this is a political poem 16 February 202419 February 2024 · Poetry Two poems from 36 Ways of Writing a Vietnamese Poem Nam Le But think about the children, super cute children, mute children, with uncommonly big eyes, children with hard eyes, eyes that have seen what no child’s eyes should see, children naked as the day wearing big smiles and no smiles, preternaturally wise, with mooned-out tummies and cleft palates and cataracts, deformities and birth defects ...
