Published in Overland Issue 229 Summer 2017 · Uncategorized eight horizons Leif Mahoney eight horizons eight horizons eight horizons eight horizons eight horizons eight horizons eight horizons eight horizons golden breeze lexicon possibly watched belle bel canto virtuoso equatorial periscope organic butter dollwave paraphernalia floating in stratospheric well connected Epicurus Gothic or classic silent running cool vertical public square cube precisely a circle robie Robie robie Robie robie Robie robie Robie robie Robie robie Robie robie thirtysix milkbars follow the flowers hip hip bop bop polka dot Jerry red spring onions Mallarme Mallarme Rimbaud Boulez Boulez surfing Gunnamatta with Macca transcendental microseconds crystal glass syncopation curl curl blue hair thursday zen Taliesen east west concrete rock Stravinsky Nijinsky transforming Vivaldi discords Read the rest of Overland 229 If you enjoyed this poem, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four outstanding issues for a year Leif Mahoney Leif Mahoney is a former architect and art gallery director, who is an art language artist. His major project has been the abstract dada novel Nunawading. More by Leif Mahoney › 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 November 202422 November 2024 · Fiction A map of underneath Madeleine Rebbechi They had been tangled together like kelp from the age of fourteen: sunburned, electric Meg and her sidekick Ruth the dreamer, up to all manner of sinister things. So said their parents; so their teachers reported when the two girls were found down at the estuary during a school excursion, whispering to something scaly wriggling in the reeds. 21 November 202421 November 2024 · Fiction Whack-a-mole Sheila Ngọc Phạm We sit in silence a few more moments as there is no need to talk further; it is the right place to end. There is more I want to know but we had revisited enough of the horror for one day. As I stood up to thank Bác Dzũng for sharing his story, I wished I could tell him how I finally understood that Father’s prophecy would never be fulfilled.
