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Showing posts from January, 2022

Review - "“Buried Gods Metal Prophets” by Maria Stadnicka

Steve Spence “Buried Gods Metal Prophets” by Maria Stadnicka, pub. Guillemot Press. 102pp      This is a beautifully produced book with superb page layout and illustrations from Antonia Glucksman. The subject matter relates to growing up in Romania in the post WW2 years and the subjects of the Cold War and the Ceausescu regime are never out of the picture. How much of this is directly autobiographical or family related is unsure but much of the text relates to the lives of children growing up in an orphanage and the mix of government statistics, bureaucratic pronouncements (propaganda) and diary notes from the viewpoint of the children is intriguing. There is satire relating to partial erasure of official jargon to suggest censorship (and self-censorship) and the ensuing complexity created by this mixing is quite something. There is also an obsession with chess. Stadnicka’s very European style of Surrealism feels very appropriate as a way of mediating absurdity, horror and confusio

Martin Stannard - Poem

Martin Stannard AUTUMN I stumble into November. November, in turn, bumbles into me. Woolly hat and cuddly mittens are hauled out of storage. Grey waters unmoving under a slate grey sky, everybody in a mood. Stratus cloud. Tales from the riverbank. Down in the valley I've forgotten where the shops are and what they're for. Did there used to be a clinic here? I don't remember. In the village to stock up on cheroots I passed a house that has a fully-decorated Christmas tree in the window. It's November! What on earth is wrong with people? The fact is we once lived in forests and caves and holes in the ground. Perhaps I'm not fully awake and the sky is not as low as it appears to the eye or to what I like to call my mind. Surely there used to be a circus here, or was it a lunatic asylum? Buckets of water emptied over some heads. Quite hilarious. I'm still in bed, or that's how it feels. I'm not eager to wake up from dreams to be described coyly in the journa

Rus Khomutoff - Text

Rus Khomutoff  I OBLIVIATE MYSELF INTO THE WHOLE LIKE A NAKED FLAME  A NAME BEYOND DESIRE/TO EXIST BETWEEN ETERNITIES WILD NOTHING WITH EYES OF THE SKY/AXIS INFINITY DICTIONARY OF OBSCURE BLISS/COME FORWARD WITH YOUR VISCERA & VIOLENCE AND SHARE MY WINGS/UNLEASH YOUR SPIRIT BENEATH THE RAMJET ALLEGRO TEMPLE OF THE NIGHT SKY A NEED FOR MIRRORS & COUNTLESS SKIES/SHAKE YOUR INFINESSENCE SLOT CANYON HIGHBREATH BIRDFLOWER OF MY BECOMING/PARACOSM OF NEXT MEMORY FORAGING A MOMENT & SUMMONING UP A BLACK FLAME/ARM OF EXUBERANCE SHORE OF ELAN/VENUS ENDEAVOR MINISTERING BLITHE SPIRITS/REACTION OUT OF MY HEAD/AUTUMN CRY OPULENCE LIKE A TRIANGLE & A DUEL/MELANCHOLY OF TRIBE SAD CAFE IMMORTAL CREAM TERMINAL SYSTEM OF SYSTEMS/CHAMELEON CHARADE STAR CODE CHALICE WONDERMENT CYCLORAMA/MEMORYISANISLAND PYLONS OF RED DUST SNAKING WITH MELANCHOLY/A FACE OF GENIUS IN FULL MEASURE OF THE SPECTACULAR NOW/IDEAPHORIA SOMETIMES ALWAYS NEVER KARTHIK FLOW/NEON METAPHOR GHOSTROCK OF THE SPLENDID RUI