Published in Overland Issue 229 Summer 2017 · Uncategorized Clean surfaces Nicholas Powell In ‘learn’ mode, stepping back through equations, cut grass, considerable geraniums just to get to where the circles meet. Obeying the plates, the quick current’s rolling-pin deposits us far from the flag. The grump lugs it back from the swamp. A flashing display indicates that the limits of his mob device have been violated. The point at which you enter and we rub together our ‘big pictures’ exceeding his or her weekly goals remains fuel for the mouthful reporting from the scene, a populist sleuth. You’d like to know the slope, keep count of each clear memory and advance after re-entering the value; that’s the shrewd driver in you, counting the corroded days. Our formula: float on top of a weird award. Airing the room lifts a grey layer from an ashtray; immaterial under the curve of some of what you’ve seen from the store to which you’re assigned. Read the rest of Overland 229 If you enjoyed this poem, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four outstanding issues for a year Nicholas Powell Nicholas Powell is an Australian poet and the author of Water Mirrors (UQP). His second collection, Trap Landscape, is forthcoming. He has lived in Finland since 2012. More by Nicholas Powell › 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 1 6 November 2026 · Friday Fiction Headland Harry Goddard He must have still been sore. I could tell from the winces he made as he scooted down the trail. Some unspoken agreement of not hitting other people’s children — and the circumstances of me not being that type of kid — spared me from the same punishment. I was taken to my parents who agreed I would have to work off the damages, and I must have mowed the lawn once, or cleaned the family car. 4 November 2026 · Film MIFF, Minotaur and the politics of maternal reception Alicia Byrnes Maternal labour is, in the terms I’ve set out here, not labour at all. Noisy, unfocused, mobile, perhaps even sleepy — it is an affront to arthouse film viewing and therefore unserious.