Published in Overland Issue 217 Summer 2014 · Uncategorized Xanadu Nathan Curnow after the film directed by Robert Greenwald, 1980 for the attractive people there is a wall to skate through it was a joke until somebody told it most of the town murals are dripping red – there is no talking sense to the ugly some try the Biblical Diet to get into shape or wear the breastplate of Saint Patrick some couples get married before they roll it is probably best if you are intoxicated makes no difference if you like the movie there are new spurts of red every day you won’t get through if you wear a helmet it is a watermelon explosion if you fail a place where so many of us dare to go might be the mural on the toilet block the love and the love and the echoes of where neon tubes blink ultra violet egged on by a fever that can’t be denied it is too late to unlock the secrets of fat the runway is lit and the bystanders waiting what commentators say about your face Nathan Curnow Nathan Curnow lives in Ballarat and is a past editor of Going Down Swinging. His latest poetry collection is RADAR. More by Nathan Curnow › 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 22 May 2026 · Friday Poetry Judas goats Caitlin Maling Because goats can climb / and cave, clamber to find cover / in the bushes of what they can’t eat / which isn’t much. 20 May 202620 May 2026 · Reviews Are you experienced? Louis Armand Pam Brown’s poetry has been described as both conversational and deeply layered, its historical consciousness seemingly belied by a fragmentary, diaristic style. An easy comparison might be drawn with the work of her long-time friend Ken Bolton, which often achieves a sense of over-arching unity of vision expressed in monologue form. Bolton’s work can appear exhaustive — long prose-like stanzas — where Brown’s seems to flicker down the page like dawn through the mangroves on the drive to Cronulla.