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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The new book of collaborations with SJ Fowler and British and European poets is out now from Penned in the Margins.
I have a colloboration with SJ Fowler in there. It's a poem play. In Kenneth Koch style. Staring Lisa Jarnot.
SJ Fowler has Enemies. And the Enemies of his Enemies are his friends.
This ground-breaking, multi-disciplinary collection is the result of collaborations with over thirty artists, photographers and writers. Diary entries mingle with a partially-redacted email exchange; texts slip and fragment, finding new contexts alongside prints, paintings, diagrams, Rorschach blots, YouTube clips and behind-the-scenes photographs at the British Museum.
Enemies includes collaborations with: Emily Critchley, Alexander Kell, Ben Morris, David Kelly, Sarah Kelly, Patrick Coyle, Sian Williams, Anatol Knotek, David Berridge, David Kelly, Lone Eriksen, Frédéric Forte, Eiríkur Örn Norðdahl, Claire Potter, Tim Atkins, Marcus Slease, Ryan Van Winkle, Tom Jenks, Chris McCabe, Monica Rinck, Deborah Pearson, Matteo Patocchi, Sam Riviere and Samantha Johnson.
“An overwhelming assault. The geography is unnerving, almost familiar, then stinging in its estrangement. Intensity crackles. Tension teases. At what point does collision become collaboration? When do the bandages come off?” Iain Sinclair
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…