from The Grand Tour (in progress)

This is an apology for the Quakers. I have mounted my horse. This is a beautiful picture of a wail. The fire door says keep shut. My interest is to ungain a name. I leave the house to walk the public streets where animals and children disappear. Forced into blocks with blankly confident boys. To display unconsciousness like the lunch hour crowd. To learn the push of age in the crowd’s unconcern. An easy sided gate. I like a dog alone near which I creep.  

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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