4 by Marcus Slease
ESSENTIAL LAYER |
is adultism
the crime of the age you have to be a child to enter the kingdom of heaven what is a child what is an inner child what is an inny what is an outy I’m coming out coming out to play the endless abyss is not now not now not now while I’m alive I’ll feel alive is the same as when I’m dead I’ll feel dead it doesn’t mean anything but it also means everything I am making annual crying day on March 6th one month from birthday I think I am becoming more and more mortal how did it happen do I want to live forever yes but not without everyone I love that’s the curse of humanitarian vampires do I want to be more human or animal the ham is falling from my Polish sandwich I’m typing one handed with the other hand behind my back I’m getting older and older I’m waiting to get DISCOVERED when will I get DISCOVERED I want to feel more machine I am trying to peel myself down to the essential layer what if there’s nothing there I’m peeling off someone else’s wilted lettuce from the bottom of my toasty and it feels good and it feels not good to be alive in the 21 century today it snowed then it stopped |
Tunnels
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I am going
to the dentist in Greenwich and she is going to tunnel into my teeth. I wonder what she will find there? I did a tunneling last night. It was another kind of tunneling. It was very good. I don’t want to go to the dentist. I prefer to think about tunneling. You can tunnel into someone and tunnel out of someone. Which one do you prefer? I suck my teeth. I am a sucker. It is another gray day in London and I am drinking coffee with honey. I am interested in traveling but not the travel channel. I am interested in tunnels. I would like to tunnel into a love den. I would like to tunnel into you. Is it the same as digging? The Diggers gave free food. They were part of the revolution. I want to be part of the revolution too. I will dig you and you can dig me. We can all dig each other. We can build a secret tunnel. The teeth have secret messages. When they fall out it means we are getting ready to become children, without teeth. That’s the message of teeth: death. They hide messages in teeth. Just watch Twelve Monkeys. Teeth come from the future and the past too. Just watch Twelve Monkeys. I have lots of holes in my teeth, lots of fillings. I am part of the old British system from the 80’s. Everyone needed a filling but no one needed straightening. We were all very straight. I have worked hard to become more crooked and it’s slowly working. I am digging into my life. It is called writing. A tunnel can hide you but a tunnel can unhide you too. A mind is a tunnel. It is many tunnels. You can tunnel your way out of a prison. It’s called meditation. Do you want to tunnel with me today? When I go to the dentist I am going to close my eyes. I am not going to answer any questions. I am going to suck the saliva pipe, close my eyes, and tunnel into my brain. I am going to imagine that drill somewhere else. |
Honky Tonk Joe
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I have a stink
bomb in my mouth. It smells like anxiety, and my x’s smelled it all the time, they told me to go brush my teeth. I might brush my teeth after I fix up some coffee and have a joint. Kurt Cobain sung from the stomach he said and they found all sorts of things in his stomach. I am listening to Wanda Jackson: Hard Headed Woman, and she is a saint. I am not a hard headed woman but maybe I am. I am also soft bellied man. Nietzsche had stomach problems. He fell under some horses. That’s not likely for me. There are no horses around here, but who knows how I’ll go. The water is boiling now for the coffee. It is 4.47 PM. My stomach needs a colon cleanser. Everything happens in the colon says all my mum’s books. I live in Poplar, the station is Westferry, the city is London. Let’s have a party says Wanda Jackson. I am Americana. It is the best place to be. I like the words crying shame and set me free. I like the growl in a woman’s voice and the whine in mine. My ancestors created Honky Tonk. I do not know them. I am Scottish from N. Ireland with a North American accent. I have secret honky tonk fantasies. Who is Honky Tonk Joe? Does he do the bunny hop? Does he blow his top or does he bop? My stomach feels empty even though it is full. Full of what? I don’t know. I keep waking up too early. Is it possible to be too awake? There are many kinds of awake and I want the right one. Darkness has fallen, the day is done, and now it is the night. My eye twitch is back. I am alive. |
Legs
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it’s sunny
hot even and American voices of summer students are all around me this is almost the desert I grew up with summer legs quads and calves some defined some not I did calve raises I wanted to get the triangle of defined calves my legs were my most manly feature the hairy legs of my youth tanned terrific and bold I had admiration for legs I used them everyday running thru deserts and dried up creek beds leaping over rattle snakes running saved me but from what? fathering babies sparkly gold platforms of clogs make me shapely don’t you just want to hug them quads support the knee so you can pivot and we all need a good pivot every minute I didn’t want a bird chest but I had one if you had a bird chest the fellas waved their arms like a chicken and clucked at you I was never mr muscle but I tried to be I did the bar dips and got emissions I climbed the ropes and got emissions this is getting hot legs are hairy or shiny or a little bit of both or neither or either what’s the difference I became leg existentialist early I am no longer trying to get a leg up oh no now I’ve written the typical poem then:now I wanted it to be all then or all now this is my body this is my spirit they are both decaying the end |
MARCUS SLEASE is the author of Rides (Blart Books 2014), Spanish Fork (Country Music 2014) and Mu (dream) So (window) (Poor Claudia 2012). Recent poetry has appeared, or will appear, in: Similar:Peaks::, Coconut Magazine, Right Hand Pointing, The Atlas Review, H_ngm_n, Spork, Forklift Ohio, Likewise Folio, Sprung Formal, and Poetry Wales.
MICHAEL/LE PRESENT is a 21 year-old bourgeois amalgam of identity categories, among them: artist, writer, witch, and hypocrite. Their goal: to “professionalize” their neuroses, transforming neurological idiosyncrasy into a full-time career!
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