Published in Overland Issue 240 Spring 2020 · Uncategorized 'Coda' for my Smoke Incrypted Whispers Samuel Wagan Watson I am a vexed engineer: my ‘smoke encrypted whispers’ faded toward the obscurity of spectral encrypted echoes … Ghost-editing over old ground … Discovering that my words previously published were morphing into crawly-little arachnoids and flies, attacking one-another … All the shiny sentences I had orchestrated were like buttons on a favourite shirt that were gradually popping off and lost; one after the other … If only I could rearrange the mottles of spiderwebs that tarnish and choke inspiration … To regain love that has not been usurped … To look at the abyss of night again and only see something terrific and omit the terrifying … To walk away from the scarlet glare of a blood moon and catch the lost tail of a random comet, as it reveals the path for gently losing oneself in an infinite cleansing … A mind de-misted in the wake of a clear night, shooting star kisses … Read the rest of Overland 240 If you enjoyed this piece, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four brilliant issues for a year Samuel Wagan Watson Samuel Wagan Watson is a Brisbane-based writer of Germanic and Wunjaburra ancestry. In 2018 his body of work was granted the Patrick White Literary Award. More by Samuel Wagan Watson › 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.
