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Entries in Text (12)

Tuesday
Sep292009

Sonnet

p.s. i realised i didn’t answer your question, what follows is my attempt

it’s difficult though because i’ve never been sure just how serious all of this is

i mean you spoke of substances, and poetry, and mothers…?

 

i can get my head around the first two, and the last two, but all three

are like a venn diagram that is stubbly and smells of beer.

when i first decided i wanted to be a poet

(it wasn’t long ago/ not as long as you’d think)

i thought, if only i can be a poet maybe i won’t need

mothers, and substances, and stances

 

but when i was shrieked at ‘you don’t want to be a

poet; you’re just too lazy to get on T.V.!!’ i thought

about it a lot because it was partly true and

partly true and partly true and partly true and partly true

but i like sonnets and so, it seems, do you.

Tuesday
Sep292009

sound is material is | Ian Tomlinson

PDF (28KB)

Audio (MP3, 48 sec, 752KB)

Copies of the poems sound is material is and Ian Tomlinson by David Grundy were originally made available at the Openned night of May 2009. Here is a PDF copy of both poems and a performance of sound is material is in audio format.

Tuesday
Sep292009

Wow Kaj Wow

Why are we going to the farmer’s market?

 

Sometimes to expectorate is sunshine

in darkness like

a flat ray

in an artificially lit alleyrat

 

Cambonzola equals

remotes

"and this fish is big or pink"

Slasher movie a fond place

a pond; an arty one; a proper ice cream palour; A chat:

a phatic cat with a frog in his throat

– "j’ai une chat dans la gorge"

spoilt from conversation

of lifted hem (or gifted?)

of undercooked flesh

flinching for the bunching

reaching for the tartar sauce

 

"I seen an organic land

like some sort of overworld destination

like a peach in a scrap-yard

or a chicken tatsed clumsily with a brick in a yard

"foot like a windscreenwiper, squashinnit

 

Which way to whiskey?

hovers a man in dinosaur costume

Slowly cooking meat meat stew

 

Who’s seen a catatonic bat,

A transluscent bee, a giraffe you can count on

 

Does anyone remember typewriters?

a very vulgar bucket,

Caged cheeses

liquids in slow rotting punch pockets

 

What do you mean ‘a nice tree’?

two fogs tap-dancing in pin-striped suits

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