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:
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from Alien Memory Machine (South Korea Section)
The dentist and I are eating our bulgogi and bean sprouts. Need visions. The small pickles and quick sushi. Korean bread baskets. When you come undone you come undone. You know you know jack shit. How far can we go? What sinks? Balloon based action reaching new heights. Are you aware of the costs? Look at this river. The children splash. The wet gaggles. Our atoms will implode. A never ending line. Welcome to the Korean summer. Keep it neon. Keep it light. Soft face fucked by soft thoughts. Just look at us. Hand in hand. They gave me prozac. We couldn't read the signs. You threw shit around the room. I bought a tiltable screen. I masturbated. No memories. Fade. Only. For. Today. Now I can look you in the eye.
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…