Published in Overland Issue 246 Autumn 2022 · Poetry / Judith Wright Poetry Prize Judith Wright Poetry Prize 2021, the national debt Gareth Morgan ok, let’s get rid of everything. let’s just have, i just, i just want plumbing, art a steady stream a community and Lucy and i suppose modern medicine…… and a big mac and a decent rosé i want death to all Apps except clock and notes and voice memos ration social media use! incl. email and data straight to the trashcan of history!!! to be economical is to have grace among man’s otherwise numerical preponderance the economy is a circus we juggle everything to the grave * it’s just the last few skerricks experimental gardening incarceration the aesthetic of your website when it’s out in the open, it’s life SUPERPAC is still going? and something called ‘sound poetry’ i have a voice in my voice!! (draw this) the senselessness of time passing thru the hands of a cheap kmart clock (pseudo-cyclical time) derive a sense of purpose. grace, knowing something new * poetry as ethical accumulation? (a gucci phone case, a punch in the face…) the poetic desire to say ‘as’ and call it a day anything is possible as. as as as as as as low carbon footprint travel conspicuous plunder the index of our lives in a lively intervention known as a fridge or, earlier, sink bright blue day and i just saw bubbles a man is a finite resource * walking the dog, the midnight blue staffy passed by by techno postie new and beautiful blah-blah machine clocking off… chicken tikka masala and a good friggen whinge * passing by the sherbet bomb factory trying to tell a story do you like your city when you touch on? do you feel the love generation? * cool bath of memory national debt a man balanced against a mansion poems that make green men cry— the first dosey doe pete’s prosecco yenidünya even the ‘stove-white cigarette’ he’s crying, he’s soft like kale soup All You Need Is Love it’s gruel everyone of us is cops and robbers * anything is possible, every leaf, even the future right wing administration will provide for you it will it must protect itself they’ll give you everything so go wash the feet of those ‘unnameables’ if you really want to see some positive change the economy loves you more than you could ever love yourself * whateverything, whereverywhat i rode a lone lodestar on a quadruped and passionate kisses woah-oh-oh… do i want too much? dogs holding hands around the globe perchance a dream a Best Western a plough bird new teeth new dance track new tree fifa ’08 on wii * while the others watched clambering history be made on the tv i cleaned both toilets, upstairs and down, snapping one brush in half with my vigour i corned beef slowly in the long, well-lit afternoon’s virtuous sunlight even drank cold milk in kitchen and old jamaica rum n raisin i demolished while L washed dishes… late-ish night why milk? why today? end of summer to the freshly doomed petals, jump in your lambdas and just drive This prize is made possible with the support of the Malcolm Robertson Foundation Read the rest of Overland 246 If you enjoyed this piece, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four brilliant issues for a year Gareth Morgan Gareth Morgan is a poet and co-director of Sick Leave. His chapbook ‘Dear Eileen,’ was published by Puncher and Wattman as part of the Slow Loris series. More by Gareth Morgan › 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 3 November 20233 November 2023 · Poetry our neighbours poem Ender Başkan our neighbours face appears above the fence – hello. our neighbours have a chat with us. our neighbours learn our names. our neighbours become our friends. our neighbours landlord thinks the market is ripe. our neighbours are told to leave. our neighbours try to buy their house at an exorbitant price to keep their kids in the school zone. our neighbours are denied. First published in Overland Issue 228 25 October 202325 October 2023 · Poetry The inhabitants Elif Sezen I died today, among many others, my grandpa died too, and our neighbours, / my best friend, the one with braided hair yes, and our sweet sweet doctors, / our motherly nurses... We heard a blast, then a whoosh of some kind, / and all gone.