Published in Overland Issue 221 Summer 2015 · Uncategorized Madingley John Kinsella I hear no birds at night through thick concrete and the lack is critical. But walking out beyond M road and A roads, to a church burial ground beneath yews and cedars, a jay is loud with presence and moves freely across the grass, between stones. I close my eyes hard to make night speak out of sunlight. John Kinsella John Kinsella’s most recent poetry books include the verse novel Cellnight (Transit Lounge, 2023), The Argonautica Inlandica (Vagabond, 2023), and the three volumes of his collected poems: The Ascension of Sheep (UWAP, 2022), Harsh Hakea (UWAP, 2023) and Spirals (UWAP, 2024). A recent critical book is Legibility: An Antifascist Poetics (Palgrave, 2022). His new book of poetry is Ghost of Myself (UQP, 2025). More by John Kinsella › 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 21 April 202621 April 2026 · Reviews Pilled to the gills: Ariel Bogle and Cam Wilson’s Conspiracy Nation Cher Tan The question that Conspiracy Nation implicitly raises isn’t why people believe in conspiracy theories but rather why people have stopped trusting official narratives. But what do we do with this knowledge? When we call something a conspiracy theory, what work are we doing? Who benefits from that designation? 17 April 2026 · Friday Fiction These old hands, they are still growing Sam Fisher It was an old house meshed in an unrelenting grid of brick and weatherboard. Its walls still stood stark, red brick. Paint like tender old sagging skin on the timber windows. A bastard of a garden surrounded it, ran up brick wall and concrete path. The lawn, dead that time of year, luminescent in the streetlight. In the center of that void, a sign, Auction.
