from The Green Monk, Boiler House Press, 2018.
MARCUS SLEASE POETRY
Nomadic surrealist poetry by Marcus Slease
Are you feeling wild. Beepers were wild, especially on studly belts, in the 1990s, in Southern Utah. Here is a studly poem. From my most recent book, The Green Monk (Boiler House Press). (image: Nancy Baker, ‘Wild Man’)
from my latest book, The Green Monk (Boiler House Press 2018).
from The Green Monk (Boiler House Press).
Ancient elephants and Dalí. From my book The Green Monk.
Super happy to have my book Play Yr Kardz in terrific list of books from Beach Sloth. Check ’em out over here
A Polish Christmas poem. From 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
Jerry 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
There 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