Play Yr Kardz Right
Excerpts from the nomadic surrealist book of poetry Play Yr Kardz Right by Marcus Slease.
A wee reading for poems at Fog Machine
My first published poems as JJ Mars. From manuscript called Play Yr Kardz Right. Published over at Fog Machine. http://fogmachine.life/blog/2015/12/1/seven-by-jj-mars
Have a poem in Best British Poetry 2015. Inspired by Alan Watts and the earth. It’s called “The Underground.” Originally published in Lighthouse magazine. Thanks Emily Berry.
I have long admired the trifle. It is the crown jewel of English sweets. I often remember it at Christmas. I felt a bit of nostalgia for the trifle when I lived in America. My memories are often connected with Milton Keynes since that’s where we moved when we “immigrated”
Some poems from my ms MILK TOP MAGIC HAT over at Map Literary: http://www.mapliterary.org/marcus-slease.html little men in my bathtub, rainy Bukowski southwest train to Reading, E.T. and rocket ships in Milton Keynes. Some fantastic poetry and fiction over there. Like Anne Gorrick’s measurements to the sun for example. Stellar! It
Someone took a picture of me reading at Cabaret Hrabal at the Horse Hospital. I am probably saying something about the trash compactors of Hrabal and my life as an endless train of nomadic travel (in body and spirit). Part of my ongoing manuscript Play Yr Kardz Right.
It was an absolutely terrific night! SOOOOOOOOO happy to have my poem commissioned for Hrabal night at Horse Hospital in London and to perform with awesome poets, actors, and artists. I love Hrabal. So many great performers/readers, including: Eva Danickova, Josh Alexander, Lucinka Eisler, Stephen Emmerson, Tom Jenks, Zoe Skoulding, and
Reading a poem that engages with Hrabal’s Too Loud A Solitude and Closely Watched Trains. Part of my manuscript Play Yr Kardz Right. Next month at THE HORSE HOSPITAL. 3rd JULY. COME ON OUT!! GREAT LINE UP!!
Erkembode (DAVID KELLY-MANCAUX) has created a saintly scroll of my poems (a minimalist version of Kerouac’s On the Road). Erkembode created the poetry scroll while working the gift shop at the British Museum. He said the till was going crazy spewing out poems instead of numbers for receipts. These poems