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 monk

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 is a gold chain, from my new book, The Green Monk. 

Gold chains and French Kissing

The Green Monk Out Now!

MARCUS SLEASE POETRY, NOMADIC SURREALISM, the green monk

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: