Some Fragments soon to be made whole

At the thumbshow my lover parades like a peacock.

The minions are swept off their feet.

Ash in the throat.

Clean wind is the cosolation of my future.

My lot behind twelve million clomping hooves.

It behooves you to bereave with bandits.

Glaciers recommended their services but brisk tails called me to distance.

The rigid arm pushes.

My lover a QB in a no-hurry huddle.

Poor Green Bay. 4th and 1 and they punted. Bad call.

First class for Irish lit yesterday. Most of the students are marketing majors. At least half of the students said they have never finished reading a whole book. None of them had heard of critical reading. I explained writing in margins or on a piece of paper. Engaging in conversation with the text etc.

Existentialism in a few hours. Gonna start off with American Beauty to get things rolling. The students responded well to that movie last semester. They had a hard time with The Seventh Seal (b&w and subtitles).

Contamination of the “mainstream” with the “avant guarde.” Purity makes me shiver. Not everything is misappropriation. Most of the mongrols I’ve met are well aware of the theory informing avant guarde poetics.

Down and dirty. Ready for a shower.

Not sure what’s in the mix today.

It seems “indie” music informs a lot of the “younger” poets. Noticed a trend at Amherst. People with an MFA in poetry who also play in an indie band.

I am heavily influenced by indie music (indie is a large category. Not sure what defines it. Magnet magazine helps).

Neutral Milk astounds me. As does Built to Spill and sometimes Modest Mouse.

Like Death Cab for Cutie.

Love Iron and Wine!!!!


Published by Marcus Slease

Born in Portadown, Northern Ireland, Marcus Slease has made his home in such places as Turkey, Poland, Italy, South Korea, the United States, Spain, and the United Kingdom – experiences that inform his nomadic surrealist writing. His latest book is Never Mind the Beasts (Dostoyevsky Wannabe 2020).

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