Published in Overland Issue 232 Spring 2018 · Uncategorized Where r those poems now Holly Friedlander Liddicoat it’s wednesday night I’m walking down King Street past the Dendy outside a man sitting with a typewriter with a milk crate with his hands clasped with a sign out front: ‘POEM 4 U’ it rains and I skirt people like puddles head bent + heading /somewhere now near the fork; outside Cream – another man – tall, skinny, dark hair, dark shirt, twilight, fervent – fat stack of papers in arms tries: ‘hey! free poem! free poem!’ me + two others shake heads downcast just keep on descent into new night keep down Enmore now as the city peels itself back like bark like posters from poles like poems from books destined for this rubbish bin (or the next) Image: Former Enmore Post Office / flickr Read the rest of Overland 232 If you enjoyed this poem, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four outstanding issues for a year Holly Friedlander Liddicoat Holly Friedlander Liddicoat has previously been published in Cordite, Otoliths, Rabbit, Seizure, Southerly and Voiceworks. In 2017 she edited poetry for Voiceworks and the UTS Writers’ Anthology and has twice been shortlisted for the UTS Writers’ Anthology Prize. Her first collection, Crave, is out with Rabbit in 2018. More by Holly Friedlander Liddicoat › 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 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.