The Green Monk Out Now!


The Green Monk is out in the world. Collaborations with the paintings of Dali and Leonora Carrington. The green parrots of Garcia Lorca and Paul Celan. The queer erotics of swans. The mysteries of milk in Madrid. Soul suckings. Bazaars and border fluencies. Nomadic surrealist prose poems written in Krakow, Katowice, Madrid, London and more.

And not to forget the paper, the paper and design of Boiler House Press is succulent and rich and very textured. A good addition to your collections.

Available over here for ordering:




Perfectionism. I have felt it, and feel it, do you feel it? For me, it comes from various places. My Mormon upbringing and experience as an immigrant in the United States. Trying to get everything right, as the eldest of seven children and a first generation immigrant, and that optimism of American culture that can sometimes mask pain rather than dealing with it. Or, the reverse, in Britannia, misery feeding on misery, sometimes.

Keep trying, fail better.

We are all broken.

It is maybe helpful to admit our vulnerabilities.

Here is a poem. It is called “Leaky Lifeboat.” From my book The Spirit of the Bathtub

The Spirit of the Bathtub is available now from Apocalypse Party:…bathtub.html

"Žibutė" / 9 / Eileen Myles in Vilnius

NY School Poetry

Eileen Myles reading in Vilnius. Terrific! Expansive and open and generous. Her confidence is contagious. I think she opens up the space and all the people in that space. So many poetry readings feel closed and sometimes suffocating. We need more open spaces (in body, mind, and spirit). We need more expansive poetry and art. NY School poetry has many expansive places for us. When I returned to London in 2010 it is was NY School poetry that gave me space to breathe and start my life long nomadic writing project. A nomadic surrealism. There are too many straight jackets, including gender. So many boxes we are supposed to tick. I am borderless, transient, a nomad from the milky way. It is the best place to be but not always easy. A nomadic surrealist life project.


eileen myles.jpg


my new book available for pre-order



Part of my nomadic surrealist life project.
No name but love, indeed, for Marcus Slease, in this exciting collection of small, surprising, lyrical poems which continue (very nicely, thank you) the ideas and methods of such poets as Clark Coolidge in At Egypt, Phil Whalen in Scenes of Life at the Capital, and Roy Kiyooka in Kyoto Airs. The writer’s eye & his heart remain open throughout this book, the language is clean, clear & refined, and one comes out exhilarated both by what Slease sees & by the way that he says it. In a world of spam (to paraphrase the author) he gives us (good) ham. With a big side of kimchee. Reader, read on! Because Mu! So! –in Japanese = Emptiness! Yes! 

– Tim Atkins (author of Petrarch)
Marcus Slease’s Mu (So) Dream (Window) lets in haunting landscapes where bodies and locations are in constant motion, dissolving and precipitating, presence and absence following each other’s shadow: The foreign desert is encountered by its sand blowing through a muted city, delivery food and Rumi are found left on the doorstep, the taste and warmth of “you” are dissolving on the tongue. Here, writing becomes an act of tracing, in which all presences are intensified in their muted, bodily foreignness. 
– Jiyoon Lee (author of IMMA) 
This poetry has seen a lot, has seen the world, but it catapults onward unjaded, grimy/sparkly, “huffing life.” If poetry is throught [thought/through/through it/rough/route/wrought] then Marcus Slease is on its tube train and he’s pulling out the stops, he’ll “unlatch/the room” you read in. 
Cathy Wagner (author of Nervous Device)


heading into 2009


A need for order drives me to write. A need to map to frame to make the hidden manifest. To give flesh. The body manifest. To tap into my others. To become aware of how I am languaged. To dialogue with language itself.

I moved away from specialized theory driven discourses because I felt it closed down this dialogue. The specialized language said keep out! Said define yr turf.

I am a generalist.

I do not believe all complex specialized discourse is suspect. Or inauthentic. But I also believe simplified diction can be equally complex.

I admire the sprezzatura of many New York school poets, especially Ted Berrgan and Anselm Berrigan. I also admire the sound based poetics of Geraldine Monk and Maggie O Sullivan. The sentence based poetics of Ron Silliman and Rosmarie Waldrop are also fascinating (for different reasons). Poetry as unlocking the energies of the unconscious appeals to me greatly. As does the humor and irony of combining some of the concerns of so-called Language Poetry with NY school wit (such as Rod Smith). Lately I am very interested in the poetics of place. This is very complex. Godzenie is concerned with many things, including place. The self as expansive. Gaps compel me as well. The gaps in Tim Atkins Horace and Folklore (as well as his use of creative translation). Sean Bonney’s combining of visual and performance poetics is fascinating (as well as his creative translation of Baudelaire).

There are so many exciting poetries alive today. It is sad that so much boring, mediocre, well-crafted poetry seems to get funding and recognition. But of course it makes sense. It is safe. In America safe is good. In England too. And even the “unsafe” is quickly gentrified. Take for example Brick Lane in East London. Fashion centre of the so called counter culture. Safe. High property values. Art moves on.

Alas, there is so much to read and experience and write and so little time.

I still wonder about Jack Spicer’s idea of community. It seems, overall, like the best model for innovative arts (music, poetry, visual arts). Of course there are great and interesting poets who publish with mainstream presses (Alice Notley being the prime example), but that is rare. Does publishing with Penguin really gives her any more readers than if she published with a smaller independent press? I am not sure having the most possible readers is the goal? A goal? What is a reader anyway?

A community is complex as well. There are plenty of MFA communities and academic communities. But I am interested in communities outside those frameworks.

There are at least four or five stellar reading series in London with good communities. Openned Reading series having the most energy and potential. Poem Klatch meetings to kick it all into high gear (I hope they continue).

My only real complaint about my new life in London is the hours of my job. I get enough to survive month to month but have to work mornings and evenings with a few hours free in the afternoon. I cannot attend hardly any readings unless I call in sick. I hope I can find a way around this next year. New job or a way to change my evening hours. Evening hours are the bread and butter of teaching EFL (ESL) and ESOL. Most of the students are working adults.

Ok. enough for now.

I am going to continue watching the last season of Sopranos. Perhaps try to add a poem centred around the setting of Sopranos to the new manuscript Placebo.

I hope for clear thinking and writing (without sacrificing complexity).

Clean cuts in!



I was listening to Mipo radio last night and Amy King was interviewing Linh Dihn (you should check it out if you haven’t yet:

Mipo Radio )

anyway, Linh mentioned being between cultures (Vietnam and America) and not being fully accepted or integrated into either. I can relate to that experience, although in my case it’s a little different. I can pass for American (skin color and accent being primary), but I most of early identity was forged in N. Ireland and Milton Keynes England. When I go home to Ireland I am an American (again my lost accent), but I feel most comfortable and at peace in N. Ireland.

So I am between.

Which is also an interesting way to think about writing. James Tate has some good nomadic surrealism, especially his early and middle period.

The ongoing struggle so vital to my living. Art/Life.

A critical in-between. Aware in other words. Aware IN OTHER WORDS!