Marcus Slease




  • Poetry translated into Czech, Turkish, and Polish.
  • One of the featured poets at Prague Microfestival 2010. Editor of special
  • Polish edition of Past Simple magazine. Actively involved in Opened poetry community in London, U.K.

Artist Statement: I am enriched by the everyday. I write to wake up. To cultivate mindfulness. Life writing life. A nomadic poetics of the everyday.



(28th Dec 2010)
for Ewa Rasala

If a man gives himself up to an indefinite pursuit of the future he will lose his existence without ever recovering it; he then resembles a madman who runs after his shadow~ Simon De Beauvoir

that i can see
that i can see

i can touch you

nothings gone

we were


for how

the body

and not

a ship
in a bottle

we’ve got the vision

you go
i go

this city

with a wormy eye
its difficult to hide

from madness
i can’t count

the steps
evening sirens

at half past ten
Ethics of Ambiguity

bricks fall
where bricks


the ticks
of a green clock

you know its real when you don’t
have to chase it

oh Jung

I want a new archetype
for this burning

beneath my lips

naked trees
bent at odd angles

let us be glued
to one another

or not
let us cleave

to make things happen
tack tack

the automatic

some charms

belly up

we are an altered

lips hands a go-go
eyes glaze on overdrive

penetrate a go-go

transient shepherds

and the others
imperiled innards
now I’ve learned
to love

lip balm
plummet in us

the will to
fall without rescue


The Roadhouse

I’m reading Pengiun Modern poets 9: Levertov, Rexroth, Williams
and Modernisms A Guide takes me back to Weber State University
and professor Wutz who showed passion and the good sense
to pick up clothing from second hand shops and sported a mustache
and suggested putting a notebook under my pillow to record thoughts
and I thought of paper and record players and grooves and writing
and the technology of it all why we want to etch our thoughts
onto stone or rock or paper and how is it any different at its base
than saying HEY! I WAS HERE! or AMY LOVES GILL!!!
and what is a record anyway I thought when my students
scratched away writing letters on a piece of paper
to show their thoughts I’ve just eaten goat curry from Africa
and I’ve just got myself a wooly with hood
a green one like many green ones in the Camden Town markets
mind coming back round I am on the on the road even though I am off it
when I start sinking I start swimming I am swimming I’ve been swimming
I’ve made it back to London and done a one month Trinity
halaluyah for all practical purposes everything is still on the fly
but a little less so and that eternal war of Mr. N’s
Dionysian and Apollonian and all the rest is taking a bit
of a truce at least in this hour in these moments before and after the words
are recorded and I am ok not being hip enough not being enough not being
Zen enough not being an artist cause I am not an artist not a poet not a writer
not this is not a building of words but a way of life there is a song on the radio
now at The Roadhouse someone is singing Pooooo Bear or maybe
it is ohhhhhh bear some kinda oldie I am not sure how oldies started
not the music but the label the marketing of the old and the marketing of nostalgia
old black and white photographs in a Trieste shop made me nostalgic
for a time before the war when I wasn’t even born and I am finishing up
green tea and thinking of my tenses even as I am writing
continuous and perfect tenses how everything is a perfect tense
that most annoying of tenses with a bearing on the now if we drew a timeline
with a little eye to show a tense the perfect tense would have an eye
under the now whether looking forward or back so in that sense the perfect tense
is the zen tense or there is no zen tense yeah whatever the green tea is fine
but some loud Frenchies came and roughed things up and not in a good
way cause now my Levertov is getting harder and harder to focus on
sudden stops with nasals and guffaws that word guffaws is most accurate
with these particular French and their pink and light blue upturned collars
and culture culture culture makes me think of the bacteria that grows
in my forever upset stomach alas we do we we all do cross over
we have walked down the Camden Town canal with blue sky poking
through and the bird aviary and cats with stripes and bushy tails
running up and down in the zoo across from the canal
and young teenagers from some London language school visiting from Spain
excited to be in an alternative centre now a part time museum
for Doc Martins and punks and the 80‘s no language is dignified
we can say that about the French as well the goat curry was special
but then the cold along the canal made me hungry the sign said
please honk before entering the tunnel we were by the aviary
build by Lord such and such and there were birds perched on the outside
there is a man in The Roadhouse with gray silky hair and a face of 22 and Ewa
says he must dye his hair or maybe he is older but keeps his face
fresh and I think of the road the real road that leads to nowhere
but sometimes somewhere for a little while at least and then the French
the French at the next table snort loudly into their creamy faces and I look around
this Roadhouse hemmed in by signs Patti Smith poster and her band
the stranglers at The Roadhouse Camden Town yeah no year
given but 16th-17th May PORK WITH PERFECT PITCH THE ROUND HO etc.

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