Marcus Slease (JJ Mars) is a (mostly) surrealist and fabulist writer from Portadown, N. Ireland and Utah.
His latest book is Play Yr Kardz Right (Dostoyevsky Wannabe, 2017).
He lives in Madrid, Spain.
Visit his website for more info:
Search This Blog
thirteen days without writing and finally something is slowly coming. Wrapped myself in professionalism only to realise, again, a job is good only if it allows me to live. By live, I mean write and think and dream. In other words lose my mind. A good stream of books words thoughts. Teaching EFL can deaden my awareness. Or strip it. I am not sure how to proceed. Still feeling cut-off from an artistic and intellectual community. But A good Internet connection and a small library could solve a lot. Or alleviate a bit. Or bring back.
I am fighting for fire. For wildness. For wilderness.
A first generation American with a sense of rootlessness. Ulster Scot. Unsettled. Wandering. Not a citizen of America. But broke my teeth on poetry in America.
This review really hit it for me. I recently read Maurice Scully's _Livelihood_ and Geofrey Squires _Untitled and Other Poems_ is on deck (I love that baseball term. It is baseball, right?)
I think this is from The Nortre Dame review, but I found it via goofle (I mean google).
Another Ireland: Part Two
Maurice Scully, The Basic Colours. Durham, UK: Pig Press, 1994.
Geoffrey Squires, Landscapes and Silences. Dublin: New Writers' Press, 1996.
Catherine Walsh, Idir Eatortha and Making Tents. London: Invisible Books, 1996.
By Robert Archambeau
I began the first half of this article (Notre Dame Review #4) by mentioning some of the limits to the legendary hospitality Ireland has shown to its poets. If you arrive in Ireland from any point of departure outside of Eastern Europe, you will indeed find a public far more willing than the one you left behind to grant poets the recognition all but the most ascetic secretly crave. However, this hospitality has never extended to Irish poets w…