Marcus Slease is a (mostly) surrealist, absurdist, 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:
we are a lovely finish we are 80 percent aficionados this is not curry in a hurry this is not 40 hits with DJ Scotty B you are a hot lick of berry a tiger with a tongue cherry notes without a hint of oak oh
a cowboy dazzled me with his belt buckle as I blew his snow in the television glow i’ve squandered nothing and get on down with the years you are very large very large and full of air I’m most sane when charged & full of pops and bleeps with a steady backbeat get on with it toss my top these jailers play the price play the fetish in the suburbs we’re getting dicey
this is precisely the right moment for the spectral city an adventure in hymns an adventure in custom stickers an amateur landscape my love is a mole a sauce for your meat cake to frolic in half-lingered ple…
my frugal heart is on ur kneecaps I'm ur sweet hussy with twitching brows & fingerbones ur throat captain AHOY! this yeast infection irrigates ur thighs beguiling u with loose eyes -------------------------------------------- Are you still in Poland . . . is Poland still . . . completely naked . . . my body is . . . . coffee . . . . is electric . . . eel . . . I want . . . to get . . . off on yr . . . dried . . . leg . . . bits . . .
Are you . . . you . . . beguiling . . . bridge . . . over . . . troubled . . . yeast . . . . infections . . . ahoy . . . thighs & eyes . . . beguile . . . (Sssss) he . . . ahoy I . . . twitching . . . brows . . . and fingerbones . . . -------------------------------------------- thinking what . . . first . . . du dat . . . all over . . . all over . . . christ god . . . dried peach . . . bit . . .
-------------------------------------------- ur . . . . angel . . . . ski . . . tak dali dali . . . mini . . . jako . . . my toesha .…
Polish news at Gdansk airport & business men gathered round to count and count and count and I exchange ZL for £ and stuff it all into an envelope my life is down to 15 kilos
plus a laptop . . . . I am off to London . . . then SLC . . . then . . . looks like Turkey . . .
There is a Polish woman in the lounge. She dreams of Mexico, dreams of warmer climates. She breaks her chocolate. This is her sacrament. Don't let me be lonely. She is 40. All of our clocks are ticking, honey.
el chimps . . . oh my fresh springlings . . . . I have taken up a course and what ails me is not the journey but the settlement . . . . what praise doth enter this abdomen what sloth doth climb into this intestinal tract . . . .
The Polish woman tells me her name is Beata. She zones. I zone. We all zone. I'm ok you're ok we're flapping our way out of this cold Polish night into another cold night. Stone gods sit on the hill overlooking the ships . . . docking . . . undocking . . . …
our pores have opened too soon the spam of an open blouse we sit in Nero after the meat feast skimmed breasts in a soy cup you taste like Christmas lines are x-ings this is not a singing postcard the peasants have sold out beep! beep! beep! there is fur on yr toilet seat! My heart is shuffled it is intelligent it is a lot like me poetry is cheap I hunger & hunger and at the end of my hungering I hunger some more
. . . borders and margins . . . danish and hebrew and arabic and english . . . intelligence never tasted so fine . . . gatherer of detritus . . . nebulae of syllables and sounds . . . . . . still feeling those skirted glottal stops . . . those shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh's and love his ppppppppppppppppp's . . . . sound placer of tongues. . . .
a cactus king blowing raspberries in this make believe you hardly know in the cardboard sundown I've yet to find the dignity of a proper fork it is not true that we are bunnies it is not true it is not true we are balled and waded we've sporked this city we've frosted the tooth kings my love my love is the snow yet to fall the solitude changing hands I travel these streets with jeden bilet