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Showing posts from November, 2019

Simon Collings - new poetry

Simon Collings how then suggest i   hidden somewhere as fit for fragments a semblance of outline doubt referred where a line might hold a bulwark, tentative ‘this’ as possibility or however subtracted the gaps the same determining a pattern of precarious tenure the horizontal anticipates if nothing will add once lost, echoes thus an allegiance of into its vagrant search ii was simply the choice of signalling to us the import here eludes when leaned on formally reflex extending settlement masking a discord how then suggest by non-ritual gestures if in this we can see the pleasure mediated configurations of a departure hence founded on avoidance no avowal, on for when aspects, with haziness i   this search for form of restitution not simply the discovery of superimpositions as we search our bearings united only within lim

Tom Jenks - Two Poems

Tom Jenks when it gets dark, I fetch my special spoon I drank nothing but celery juice for seven days. I ran around the internet and wore antlers wired to the moon. I was steward of the roots that twist in the ground, sundrysilver pools. Is it true that UHT milk cures everything if you rub it on a sponge and then rub the sponge on a bit of yourself. This is not a joke, this is grave. Listen doc, I am coming down with it. I have a fat, domed belly full of pasta. I eat because of emotional conflict, which I represent unflinchingly. I get drunk with the wood elves out in the National Park. We bang our thumbs with hammers and our thumbs they do throb. Can you do anything about these, they are hanging down. Can you give me something to tie them up, like twine or the string they use for hams. When we couldn’t get conkers, we used water chestnuts which were a waste product then,

Review - "A Language of Spies" by Melisande Fitzsimons

Steve Spence "A Language of Spies" by Melisande Fitzsimons,  pub.   Crafty Little Press    24 pages   This might be a short collection but it’s jam-packed with intrigue, interesting information, surreal and dreamy interjections and a love of language which is enriched by its author’s bilingual dexterity. In ‘I Love Disney’, for example, we have what I take to be a critique of the Blair government’s involvement with the invasion of Iraq which is melded with the language of sex and sexuality. One effect of this is strangely, if disturbingly, comic, yet the philosophical underpinning of ‘the argument’ is also strengthened by the ‘mixed language’, a critique of phallocentric posturing, perhaps, as well as supplying an estranged and slightly weird way of coming at things which is oddly endearing: ‘A genital / ‘show and tell’ is bombing lots of people. Masturbation in a / circle is likely to make things better.’ Fitzsimons has a gift for arr