Published in Overland Issue 215 Winter 2014 · Uncategorized Departures, arrivals Stu Hatton Airport of the future. Devoid of take-offs, landings. Derelict hub. The passenger era having followed the strip-lights to the exit. Heat of steel, glass. Kids barefoot on tarmac. The encampments were quick to spread here. Spaces once open. Signs no longer apply. Former meanings, functions. Arrows lead to nothings, nowheres. Proliferation of tents, tarps, improvs on a theme of shelter. ‘Temporary’ uttered less and less (palliative word). Fires throw the only night-lighting. The thinning. Safeties, sanitations (relativities). Sustenance amounts to sprouts in water. Seeds once saved. Harvesting water from the slants of roofs. A hangar become hothouse, an airliner become home. Hierarchies trampled (what of hierarchies of need, triage?). Travel is but a story. The endless elsewhere. What was once a city’s intersection of complexity (flightpath web). That ancient theme of waiting. Stu Hatton Stu Hatton is a poet, editor and researcher. He works in mental health at the University of Melbourne. His books are available from www.lulu.com/spotlight/stuhatton; he sometimes posts at outerblog.tumblr.com. More by Stu Hatton 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 1 June 20231 June 2023 · Politics Turning peaceful protesters into criminals—again Evan Smith So the Summary Offences (Obstruction of Public Places) Bill 2023 has been passed by South Australia’s Legislative Assembly and will become law. Fifteen hours of debate in the upper house, led by the Greens and SA Best, could not overturn the bill that was reportedly rushed through the lower house in just twenty-two minutes a fortnight ago. First published in Overland Issue 228 31 May 202331 May 2023 · Film In Memoriam: Kenneth Anger’s cinematic incantations Eloise Ross ‘Making a movie is casting a spell,’ said Kenneth Anger about his lifelong profession, his unique and spectacular talent, his very own dark magic. That certainly describes how I was lured into his realm. There was a time in my life where I would watch Anger’s seven-minute film Rabbit’s Moon basically on repeat, infatuated by its blue-tinted images of a sprightly harlequin dancing around a clearing and calling silently to the moon. It was poetry.
