The Spirit of the Bathtub is a limited edition book available until 1st June 2019
MARCUS SLEASE POETRY
Writing about my nomadic surrealist poetry.
Reading of Wild Man
MARCUS SLEASE POETRY, NOMADIC SURREALISM, the green monkfrom my recent book, The Green Monk (Boiler House Press 2018).
Wild Man
MARCUS SLEASE POETRY, NOMADIC SURREALISM, the green monk
from my latest book, The Green Monk (Boiler House Press 2018).
99 Red Balloons
MARCUS SLEASE POETRY, NOMADIC SURREALISM, the green monk
from The Green Monk (Boiler House Press, 2018).
Ancient Elephants
MARCUS SLEASE POETRY, NOMADIC SURREALISM, the green monk
Ancient elephants and Dalí. From my book The Green Monk.
2018 Beachies
MARCUS SLEASE POETRY, NOMADIC SURREALISM, Play Yr Kardz RightSuper happy to have my book Play Yr Kardz in terrific list of books from Beach Sloth. Check ’em out over here
First Star
MARCUS SLEASE POETRY, NOMADIC SURREALISM, the green monk
A Polish Christmas poem. From The Green Monk.
The Street of Lamps
MARCUS SLEASE POETRY, NOMADIC SURREALISM, the green monk
In Madrid there is a street called the street of lamps. It is called the street of lamps because they sell many lamps. It is also a street with cold floor cafe with sawdust and old medieval style damp alleyways with flowerpots on the balconies. I sat there, in the cafe, after wandering the street of lamps and wrote the above. It is part of my new book of prose poems and flash fictions entitled The Green Monk.
Gold Chains and French Kissing
MARCUS SLEASE POETRY, NOMADIC SURREALISM, the green monkJerry sported gold chains, even when he broke the bread, the body of Jesus, and passed the little cups of water, the blood of Jesus. It was a thin one, there were thicker ones. It was the end of 1980s, North Las Vegas. French kissing was in the air. Here is a gold chain, from my new book, The Green Monk.
Gold chains and French Kissing
Swan’s Way
MARCUS SLEASE POETRY, the green monkThere are so many. Dancers dance them. Lordly swans. Soft swans. Isn’t it time for the swans. Noise rock, post-punk, industrial and post-rock. Temperamental and beautiful. Here is a poem, from The Green Monk, about swans, written in London, in a bone cold room, during winter, warmed by swans, and the thought of swans, and also sleep, swans are the best sleep.
