for Marcus Slease

Eating Bulgogi, memoriesare not the
porno a poem for Marcus Slease on the occasion
of his 39th birthday

– – — – – — – – by SJ Fowler

—and visual translation

– —-(man under a tree)

– – — – – by erkembode

david kelly


does that mean if you come here, you find?
I saw him see snow & ask ‘long, outside?’
does that mean if there’s snowfall snow hero fell fell?
do you know Daughn Gibson of the desert? u shud
write a song about an open road hobo
called the Mew Too & get sued by the Splendids
for foreign snow is a stage between glass & friends

remember the tree in the story, not the sitter
the throne is where it’s at, not the King
a neighbouring love with wave its way jess
Mongol mermaid will not sight blood
but that’ll not stop the threads clenching
there are chicken cheekbones so delicate
a man could not have told you, not possible
here here _ _ _ in koe rea, who did I say, again?
the performance of a thick, remonstration of regret

the worms of the Brain migrate to the pot
for the waste of human fruit (more fool them
it’s the coffee that’s the thing, the black choc)
it’s a long way down from the temple to the outre dark
but is it worth it for / depends on whome & with where
that which you’ll have clamped off will be so
let us them (mate) tell me about it

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

please see also:

2 thoughts on “for Marcus Slease

    • marcus slease is a legend of a poet.

      ‘mu (so) dream (window)’ is his new poetry collection, published by Poor Claudia. It is a really beautiful collection, will show you.



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