Published in Overland Issue 220 Spring 2015 Uncategorized Young folly John Tranter It must seem like a mountain of folly to the old people, but we take our chances and we’re always on the ready. We’re on the ready, right now, and yet they think we’re just a troubled handful of trouble, just can’t go straight, can’t go straight like the arrow of time that speeds from ancient times to right now to get you between the eyes. This is the realm behind the eyes, with its whip-quick answers to how to behave, its cheap vow to be better, much better, quickly broken so that what is not better is boarding at boarding time, those giant flying machines. We take a drag, and fuck the lung. Fuck the drag of the air, the horizon’s curve. We’re all going on a summer holiday, already gone into sad age waiting, with just a wave. ‘Young folly’ began as a draft using the end-words of ‘The young’ by Roddy Lumsden John Tranter John Tranter is an Australian poet, publisher and editor. More by John Tranter 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 November 202225 November 2022 Poetry Poetry | Summer animal Jini Maxwell This summer I can feel myself turning back into an animal. I wake up early and seek out trees, walking through the expansive quiet of the park until the heat starts feeling sharp on my skin. I leave the blinds closed, so when I return home the building is dark and familiar, and as I shut the door behind me I feel a satisfaction I can only describe as territorial. First published in Overland Issue 228 24 November 202225 November 2022 Politics ‘Sir, please get me the Manager’: Brazil before and after Bolsonaro Guido Melo By then, although young in age, I already knew about those rituals of humiliation and how they were part of my Black family's lives. I also knew that surviving those daily interactions required putting my head down and following the instructions received with no hesitation. I must have had ‘the talk ‘with my parents when I was eight or nine. Life was just like that. Being Black in Brazil means living in a war. No one should ever go to war underprepared.