Published in Overland Issue 205 Summer 2011 · Uncategorized sad Stuart Barnes The venetians creak – fog’s tonnage. Condensation gasps on glassy corners, gloomy Xmas dec. The butter’s thickened in its crock like dripping. A constellation of barbed starfish rises from the mug of tea toward the ceiling shooting watery cannonballs intermittently as Hippolytus de Marsiliis’ fingers. The iMac, too, is punctuated, each poorly catalogued knuckle eroded like an Apostle by my salt. Only I, oddly overlooked, am hardhearted to this seasonal affective disorder. Stuart Barnes’ poetry has been exhibited, anthologised and published in journals, newspapers and online. He’s currently editing two chapbooks, and writing his first novel. He lives in Melbourne. © Stuart Barnes Overland 205-summer 2011, p. 75 Like this piece? Subscribe! Stuart Barnes Stuart Barnes is the author of Glasshouses (UQP 2016), which won the Thomas Shapcott Poetry Prize, was commended for the Anne Elder Award and shortlisted for the Mary Gilmore Award. Twitter/Instagram: @StuartABarnes More by Stuart Barnes › 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 First published in Overland Issue 228 25 September 202326 September 2023 · The university Solidarity but only among managers, or the future of the university sector Hannah Forsyth The process continued during Covid. Jobs were being cut due to the threats posed by the pandemic, yet more scholars were being recruited. Nice people, good at their job. But why are we doing this, we kept asking. Management kept telling us we have a funding crisis (which often turned to a surplus in the end), so why are we also on a hiring spree? All along it looked like it could end badly, for all of us. First published in Overland Issue 228 15 September 202326 September 2023 · Friday Features Activating the poetic spirit as friendship John Kinsella I’ve always had the aching feeling that—as a text to be shared among friends and maybe eventually ‘enemies’—the soul-body dialogue poem is a way of arguing towards spiritual certainty in the face of earthly corruption and doubt.
