Published in Overland Issue 229 Summer 2017 · Uncategorized Some climb Jonno Revanche offering me honours sorbet for heart-wrenching situations coffee sweetener wallpaper those months wondering the climate of your bed there were days when i was scarlet but quickly turned mandarine against mountains, tapestries, escape routes climbing the town of hobart fireworks suddenly have the ability to explode in the unseeable bow of the ocean fireworks suddenly have the ability to explode in the quietest part of me i’m not a little boy (but i am small) i long to do all the things the others get to do like publicities that ship me above and for another body to reel me in charmlets indent sleep skin trying on, conflicting to, explaining toward it missing it, that one time where / when i remembered feeling magical Read the rest of Overland 229 If you enjoyed this poem, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four outstanding issues for a year Jonno Revanche Jonno Revanche is a writer based in the cross. More by Jonno Revanche › 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 14 October 2024 · Politics The politics of “social cohesion” Jeff Sparrow Almost by definition, Labor’s identification of social cohesion as an end in and of itself corresponds with abandoning even the mildest reform agenda. Any movement for change must begin with an acknowledgement of inequality, of division, of struggle. 11 October 2024 · Friday Fiction How we know the forest’s name Jamil Badi The clouds lean upon the night with threat of a storm but I do not let them break. Yes, I am thirsty for rain, my barked fingers pruned a dry and brittle grey, but I make the clouds wait. A pair of them, boy and girl, he tracing his fingers along my bones, she kicking the leaves of my dead hair. I tell the storm to wait, for I can sense a story in these two, and there is no better thing to quench the throat than story.
