The Ofi Press Magazine
International Poetry and Literature from Mexico City
Poems by Marcus Slease (UK)
Published in The Ofi Press issue 36.
entering America like another name
shouting into abyss what did I miss?
I began in a failed society
mushy peas & fried pineapples
my loins are SILCOCK
but my mind is SLEEZE
in Spanish Fork sipping French Roast
from Buns & Brews
I meet FOX News woman in Red Iguana near a sign that reads
"our money clips grip"
I’m looking for new stickers
all those holy masses & penguin dust
& bibs roaches &
shoes
am I making an amateur pornography?
the present is a baffled weather
my grandfather my brother
reborn as little blond fresh faced baby
go be shaved head monster in a cave
blue cross blue shield
the untouchable dust
of beautiful faces
big red juju &
ginger ale
sad tailed tender vines
shaking rain from empty head
forced into square
auto life mold
the enamel is not going to hold
a wet squirt of salt on snow filled road
morning drops itself into the keyhole
my other name is Amber
a cosmic fierce wind
it is a gamble to get off
a gamble to declare your self
missing
OH!
this is a 2 minute broadcast from Spanish Fork
a picture of Jesus on the ceiling when we tried NOT
to make love
1AM 2AM 3AM 4AM 5AM
apathetic & sick I just wanted out
what is OUT? what is IN?
everything was another life
leaving me cold & wet
it’s called night sweats
a pianist or a star-ship?
the untraveled part of this room
too scary! too far away!
the museum of my worries
the eel coated in thick foam
wishing you hello in monster aisle supermarkets
cars change lanes on mega lane highways
I want to roll my own but I can't seem to get going
My brother’s birthday was two days ago on Dec 15th and there were tributes and flowers on Facebook and I had to get off. I couldn’t write anything. I couldn’t say anything about my brother. I sometimes have to catch myself from thinking he is still out there, in another country, in Utah, waiting to catch up with me, maybe next summer, and we can go out for a beer at the local bar with all the cowboys, and drive around the town, and eat at the Chinese buffet, and he can tell me again about his favorite
| band: Hot Water Music, and the only books he really liked: Bukowski, and how he escaped death many times from drugs and Mexican gangs, and how he is now on a strict exercise routine, and getting clean, and we can go to the SLC library, with fresh snow coming down, and take pictures of each other in the mirror of the toilet, and look at the great architecture, and make plans for another New Years at Piper Down. | What am I talking about? I am talking about wishes and memories and they go, they fly by, and we can get stuck there. I don’t want to get stuck there. But I don’t want to forget him either. And he is off to the side as life goes by with it’s petty worries and fears, but he is still here. I can imagine him and people can imagine me. What else is there? |
About the Poet
Marcus Slease was born in Portadown, N. Ireland in 1974. At the end of 1985 he immigrated to Las Vegas to become Mormon. He is no longer Mormon or a resident of Vegas. He lives in East London and teaches English as a foreign language. He has performed his work at various festivals and events, such as Soundeye in Cork, Ireland, The Carrboro Poetry Festival in North Carolina, The Prague Microfestival in Prague, and The Parasol Unit in London. His poetry has been published in various journals in the U.K., U.S., and Poland, and the anthology Dear World and Everyone In It (Bloodaxe 2013). He is the author of nine chapbooks/books of poetry from small presses, most recently Rides (forthcoming, Blart Books, 2014), Spanish Fork (Country Music 2014) Mu (Dream) So (Window) (Poor Claudia 2012), Hello Tiny Bird Brain (Knives Forks and Spoons, 2012), Smashing Time (miPOesias 2011) and one mini novella: The House of Zabka (Deathless Press 2013). He is a founding member of the UK poetry and art community UPTIGHT: http://www.thisisuptight.com/
Images by درفش کاویانی and Russell Patterson.