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Showing posts from May, 2011

lucifer poetics/ desert city reading series

The lucifer Poetics Group and the Desert City Reading Series (run by Ken Rumble) and the Blue Door (Todd and Laura Sandvik) and Carborro International Poetry Festival (organized by Patrick Heron) and lots of spontaneous events . . .  this is where I was given wings . . . . so much generosity . .  this is what it is about . . . community . . .

sooooooooooo much was happening . . . .

2004 season

2005 season

The Band ( I missed this):

my reading from 2005 . . . lucifer poetics . . . north carolina

I was surprised by this . . . forgot about this work . . . and my voice/accent has changed from all the foreign traveling and isolation . . . i kinda miss this guy in the video . . . coming back around to that playfulness now again . . .  phew :-)

<p><a href="">Marcus Slease, September 2005 by 715</a></p>

narratives (still very much in progress)

Irish Ninja Somewhere around the age of 20 I had been looking to get my accent back that would have been 1995 when I first came back to Milton Keynes & Portadown BOYO after moving to Vegas  where the middle school  was full of Mexicans hombre and a girl named Candy squinted  when she smoked a cigarette through her gaped tooth and BOYO  did she love Duran Duran and French kissing I hadn’t learned the French and loved Jesus but did play spin the bottle with no tongue for Jesus I hadn’t learned the cursive  so the curly haired Mexican teacher  who was a finalist for space  but Christa McAuliffe beat him to it &  was blown up in the process showed us  an experiment with a glass tube and a cigarette and the tube filled up with smoke  and the glass bottom got yellow and he said  this is what happens to your glass belly  BOYO my accent was still thick  and the girls wanted to play four square but I hadn’t learned the cursive  so I was after school with a shy Mexican girl and I was her  Irish ninja & made …

third revision

THE PRINCE OF MIST BY THE BEST SELLING AUTHOR OF THE SHADOW OF THE WIND this version left blank due to rules regarding blog posted poems and submissions to mags . . hm . . . not sure about that . .  ah well . . .

saturday morning revision

THE PRINCE OF MIST BY THE BEST SELLING AUTHOR OF THE SHADOW OF THE WIND I’m petite Asian and can handle any cock they fix everything here take your sandals to the shop i have cabbed upon this  mind barking like a cork this is eski yeni in other words Samsara hello kebab hello clam hello sweeeeet buttery balik ekmek I weep too much or not at all highway of plastic gunk hello beer and no sex  hello dear hello WAKE UP we live in a desert in spring it is mud in summer it is brittle in winter it snows Oh Ankara

Friday night makings and readings

Ewa is putting nail polish on chapbook cover of chapbook Balloons. The ink with title and name did not dry on Napalese paper. 

Some copies of cover painting have now been printed on tracing paper. 

Grzegorz Wroblewski's These Extraordinary People:

Getting dizzy with fumes. We need to make a mock up for the chap. Print. Glue. We have a bone to make the pages flatten. A brush for gluing. A bowl.

Should be ready to go for my reading at Rich Mix in London on 18th June.

Earlier read some mighty good Hungarian gypsy poetry over at Milk Magazine

Attila Balogh:


(friday afternoon. Tasmac. Northwest London. 10 min break time . . . recollecting in tranquility the delights of living in Ankara and feeling that thing commonly called nostalgia but for something that isn't quite grasped or expressed  . .  what is IT?)

many times

i have cabbed upon this

in eski YENI

this is my brain

on Turkish skirts

hello kebab

hello clam

hello sweeeeet buttery balik ekmek

hello beer and no sex

hello dear hello

we live in a desert

in spring it is mud

in summer it is brittle

in winter it snows

Oh Ankara!

do you want my hand

or my bed?

bored no longer

Jeff Hilson's In the Assarts (My fav Hilson yet!!!)

Tim Atkins Petrarch (from Barque Press) (my fav Atkins yet!!)

Hilson and Atkins Atkins and Hilson a cold drink of water in the desert of British poetry!!!

Kenneth Koch's poem "On Beauty"

Elffish Jon (the unassarts) . . . . from Linus Slug . . .

Now I remember why poetry matters!!!

Language lives!!!

More to come . . .

where is boredom?

It is raining in London. I am in Kingsbury. At a business school teaching EFL. The job will end next Thursday.

I am searching for jobs again. To survive (shelter and food etc. )

This is a continual process.

In the meantime, I have become bored (temporarily) of poetry.

Perhaps boredom can be a good thing, however.

Getting tired of the same type of poetry being written, or poetry in general.

I guess if it is not interesting to me it is not worth writing (reading). There are better things to do than write/read poetry. Such as interacting with friends (not virtually). Eating some curry with friends. Having a BBQ with friends.

I guess I want those worlds of writing and the everyday to come closer to together. I write to awake! To pay attention.

I guess that is why the NY school has been the most influential for me (and some of the beats). It allows the poetry to enter my life rather than be removed for further study.  It is not a specialized activity.

I am trying hard to be a generalis…

Being Generous

Tim Atkins has written a fantastic review about a book that influenced me a lot when I lived in Poland and continues to inform me sense of what is possible. It is absolutely one of my favourite books of poetry from the last 15 years.

It is interesting because I love Rhode Island Notebook a lot. And I love the review. I hardly ever love reviews because they feel stiff, insincere, formulaic and who the hell reads them anyway. I trust more the recommendations of my friends (same for music and films). And this review makes me curious about another book and helps me r-engage with Rhode Island Notebook.

A review should be as interesting as the poetry/art/music we love right? Not an exercise in abstract theory or simply to spurn out another review for the CV to climb the ranks and get that pie in the sky academic position at such and such university.

And theory. Well . . . with the folks doing phds and getting more estranged from what's out there . . and more and more limiting in thei…


I just ate a pig's ear. I am trying to forget about it. It was chewy and from Bulgaria. A Bulgarian gave it to me. I can still taste it. I will forget soon.

Southbank for the day. Books borrowed from the poetry library:

1) The Nancy Book by Joe Brainard (cartoons, narratives, ahhhhhhh boyo it doesn't get much better than Joe Brainard)

2) Apprehend by Elizabeth Robinson (read half on the tube. So so. If I read it fast there are some interesting lines I can steal)

3) Just Space (poems 1979-1989) by Joanne Kyger (looking forward to diggin in) (Philip Whalen, Joanne Kyger, Bernadette Mayer, Joe Ceravolo, Ted Berrigan, Kenneth Koch . . . the centre of the universe . . .)

4) Ny Poesi (collaborations between British and European poets). Knives Forks and Spoons Press.

My fav collaborations with My Poesi are between Jeff Hilson (one of the most interesting British poets full stop) and Auden Mortensen (an interesting Swedish poet). Also some mighty fine political poetry from Sean Bonney…

Chris Toll's Disinformation Phase: The Pilgrim Dreaming

Publishing Genius has some interesting work . . . no reason poetry can't connect like Indie music scenes in the 80's and 90's or punk music in the 70's . . . etc. etc.

check out this trailer for a book of poetry forthcoming



The empty earth . . . .


The Latest from the Netherlands (Hague)

Copenhagen+bikes+strand+Christiana+wild west+paintings+poetry ++++

what a city. What time. Grzegorz Wroblewski. Paintings. Books. Louise Rosengreen (another terrific Danish poet). A journey to a place called Christiana. A freetown. A town at the end of the world. The wild west reborn.

And the strand. Ahhh what a strand. I was in a painting. It was a nice painting.

And the bikes. And the colours. I must go again soon!!!

Pics from the life changing trip:

some pics from Copenhagen

poet Louise Rosengreen in action:

Louise Rosengreen

This was incredible . .. a bit of spaceman feeling . . . dreamy . . . a town within a town at the end of the world:

Freetown Christiania