Published in Overland Issue 237 Summer 2019 Uncategorized In this letter, i can finally grammar yourself into a poem Duy Quang Mai dear Quang, don’t forget you are already here, sky-clean in light. doesn’t matter when this city less flame, i tell you that we stay yes, we do. so by writing you this i’m chiseling these syllables to our heart’s music. remember that sometimes, our punctuations fall apart for a reason. i think ‘chaos’ in our mother-tongue has another body, turning to ‘chào’ or vietnamese for hello. & hello a cliché that harvests the spring in your mouth you are here to give life, Quang so get up. been a while but i hope you earn a nice day (?) sorry so much for your patience (?) & everything kind regards,,,:; – (maybe a hyphen could help this continue / go on / outstretch / please / p l e a s pl e a s e p lea se / live / live / live x 10^100^10000) i miss you into a famine. i really do? Read the rest of Overland 237 If you enjoyed this piece, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four brilliant issues for a year Duy Quang Mai Duy Quang Mai is an international student in Sydney, originally from Hanoi, Vietnam. His poems have been published or are forthcoming in The Lifted Brow, Cordite Poetry Review and Rabbit. More by Duy Quang Mai 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 First published in Overland Issue 228 30 March 2023 Culture RollerCoaster Tycoon and the art of niche hobbies Zac Picker As a writer, I spend too much time awake at night worrying about building an audience for my work. And yet, I spend even more time awake at night, planning my next RollerCoaster Tycoon park in my head, for an audience of the hundred-or-so RCT parkmakers I care about the most. First published in Overland Issue 228 29 March 2023 Aboriginal Australia Standing in the dawn’s new light: truth-telling for settlers Anthony Kelly There’s a paradox about being a settler in a stolen country. No matter when we arrived, we inherited the bounty of genocidal violence. Many of us are the beneficiaries of the intergenerational wealth-building that saw English, Irish and Scottish settler families grow rich on the sheep, timber, wheat and resources provided by stolen land. We have a profound responsibility to dismantle the ‘lie-telling’ because it shores up this legacy and the systems of colonial violence that continue in our lifetimes.
