Sunday, 11 March 2012
You filthy dog. I see what you've been doing, don't think I don't. And it's disgusting. You, yes YOU, make me want to retch up my vodka-soaked guts and then rub the Me Mess into my own eyes so I don't have to see you any more. Even your mother would slap that face. Hard.
This is this premise - kind of - for my recently "Venture Poetry Award" short-listed collection, "Our Terraced Hum". Me starin at people an things an dat from my dank pit window. And then writing lovely sonnets about the things I see. Awww.
Anyway I'll be reading from this collection at the Oxford House Theatre in London, on 12th April (6:30-eternity / 9pm)
Details below, 7 whole British pounds to get in.
Friday, 2 March 2012
Imagine, with your feeble mind, what a corpse might say - if it were able - when laid out on the anatomy class slab, being hacked to pieces.
Well you don't have to!
Marianne Boruch hosts a night of readings by medical and literature students (including my miserable self) in Edinburgh's Old Anatomy Theatre on 21st March. We'll each be reading three of Boruch's poems from her collection, 'Cadaver, Speak'
Drag your lifeless sack of limbs there. I command thee!
Check out Boruch here: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/marianne-boruch