Playlist: November 2020

drawing of

Surf Rock
for fred and kate

Lioness chained to hillsides of lavender        the sun 
is streaming oversea entirely conceptual homeland
5G howl                                      like how a fractal glint
constitutes one or more endings                and is just 
never never never never never 
lavender exactly                   who unimaginable loses
when fox does                                    borrowed snouts
language of flowers          fuck this                       howl 
again five dimensions


Is you said to me a common placard
stands vantablack in the manacles           jason cries 
his heart broke in your jaw              I swam all night
to the motor show                  roseate perfume of the 
problem                being born out of lobster wedlock
to be ravaged by the neo-marxist programme of
naming us wasp                and other wasp sadnesses
it is for me as I for you           better at swiss twilight 
when               I was community 


In the womb                  wept effort of what insomnia 
does
from the latin meaning wandering
                             policy of “rural lust”        I will swim 
I will swim through hedgerows I will swim I swim
this isn’t the song turn up your sleeves we enter the
chess in brightness mode I wanted the heat the reat
                                     skelped by autofictive descent
another coxcomb 
texts you back                                                    O lariat 


At that altitude paying the rent              in pale world 
and even if she has lost control 
what a car does                          in green light heaven
obscenity pedestrian    the ground here opal silicate
owing you a crush moratorium
cheques out after all
                                     this is just a modern rock song
adjusting   styles pane of my old wound, new wound
at clydebank the skycastles at four o’clock who are u


Harvest season was accordion sonnetry I lifted my 
volta skirts for assholes feeling perennially strange 
in melancholy chord progression of certified orange
is this out of the question              lazily in the grass
lexie and cecil and ariel               open your mouth
be lucid 
corduroy when stevie sings 
harmony on thursday morning exhaustion I thought
             just swish would do it


Could be 1995 
how will I get there                            painting the ice-
course with fairways                          is all that I have 
boygirlboygirl varieties of noodles
                                  bunny calls it cloudheartedness 
be mute in serious leaf together 
is falling 
                          the same as time at all / it got claws 
hi can I have some more bourgeois heroine pastry


Okay to just swim and arrive here                 my salty
fiancé is a type of fish         did you enjoy The Shape
of Water and other films to which I might fuck 
glitching in the real world 
                          darling is a missing numbering
merely the sun                  streaming feminine voices
never never
a century of the Laurieston & all of my guinnesses  
are oxygen                                         saw another fox 


And wherever you are I suppose the squirrels are 
listening
as bartender came home w/ three crystal ocean
we stub the ashes out
we stub the ashes out                                     it’s him
that I am smashed mezzanine      phoning my dad 
                                                          big blue energy 
another song about the suburbs   /   mineral & gem
sometimes I can’t believe


Red lions and lionesses are not metaphors but love 
laura no lies            & lilac passion in the first place 
I wrote about you in my notebook: we might not
even be awake in the world is still in the kitchen 
scratch at my socialist lichen 
                         second paramore whose kisses are 
madness         my counsellor said yeah 
I like those mornings also 
London fog, London fog  

~

Oneohtrix Point Never — I Don’t Love Me Anymore

i_O — Castles In The Sky

Quirke — Luxury Red Pence

Mogwai — Dry Fantasy

Salem — Red River

Songs: Ohia — Lioness

Silver Jewels — Federal Dust

Johnny Flynn — Lost and Found

Keaton Hensen — Ontario

Life Without Buildings — Sorrow

Drop Nineteens – Winona

The National — Dark Side of the Gym

Weyes Blood — A Certain Kind

Marika Hackman — Playground Love (Air cover)

God Help the Girl — Pretty When The Wind Blows

Porridge Radio — 7 Seconds

Elliott Smith — True Love

A. G. Cook — Beautiful Superstar

Bat for Lashes — Peach Sky

Lemongrass — Sayonara

Tennis — Tender As A Tomb

The Avalanches — We Will Always Love You (feat. Blood Orange)

Golden Mean — Midnight 

Phoebe Bridgers, Rob Moose — Punisher (Copycat Killer Version)

Angel Olsen — New Love Cassette (Mark Ronson Remix)

Belle & Sebastian — This Is Just a Modern Rock Song

(NEW BOOK) neutral milky halo

neutral milky halo loops around the pixelated tempos, imaginaries and myths of this fraught, contingent moment. Poems of weird ecology, cultivated address and tendering detail; poems of disorientation, hospitality, sounding and shimmer. Poems seen through screens, reflected on or refracted from glass; poems seen-through and poems making visible the otherwise shadowed. Poems that envelop the animal, the flower, the technologies of writing and other means of resistance, expression and growth. Weaving the everyday ‘scenes’ of the anthropocene — from starry cosmologies of new gods, months and seasons, to kissable forests and the ice cream trucks that haunt our quarantine — neutral milky halo draws fragile yet glistening socialities for dreaming between ‘thick’ futures.

Pamphlet / 184 x 140mm / 44pp / Mohawk Superfine papers & sparkly pink end papers / ISBN 978-1-913749-09-5.

Cover design by CF Sherratt.

Available now for £8.00 from Guillemot Press.

(NEW BOOK) the weird folds: everyday poems from the anthropocene

Announcing a new anthology I’ve been working on with the wonderful Rhian Williams and indie publishers Dostoyevsky Wannabe. Copies are now available to order…

Edited by Maria Sledmere and Rhian Williams and with a foreword by Tim Morton, the weird folds intervenes in more traditional canons of nature and ecopoetry to offer a poetics of the anthropocene which is thoroughly generous, queer, sensuous, formally innovative, relational, occult, fugitive and critically sensitive to the mediations of technology and culture which shape our encounters with the more-than-human.

BOOKSHOP.ORG
WATERSTONES
BLACKWELL’S
AMAZON

NOTE: If cover images are missing from any of the above links, please be aware that the books are still available for purchase.

Pages: 296
Dimensions: B Format
ISBN: 978-1838015619
Cat No: DW-001-97
Imprint: Dostoyevsky Wannabe Originals
Publishing Model: Tailored

The Author

Edited by Maria Sledmere and Rhian Williams and with a foreword from Timothy Morton), the weird folds: everyday poems from the anthropocene features contributors working at the intersections of lyric, cultural critique and hybrid forms. The contributors in order are:    Pratyusha, Kashif Sharma-Patel, Jay G Ying, Sarah Cave, Samantha Walton, Rebecca Tamás, Daisy Lafarge, Jane Hartshorn, Francesca Lisette, Max Parnell, Calum Rodger, Miranda Cichy, Alice Tarbuck, fred spoliar, Iain Morrison, Gloria Dawson, Vahni Capildeo, Sascha Akhtar, Fred Carter, Katy Lewis Hood and Therese Keogh, montenegro fisher, Nat Raha, Mike Saunders, Jane Goldman, Harriet Tarlo, Rosie Roberts, Lila Matsumoto, Colin Herd, Paul Hawkins, nicky melville, Kat Sinclair, Nasim Luczaj. 

Praise

This vital gathering tells slanted anthropocenic truths, re-cognising the manifold everyday as a crucial space-time of enquiry, excavation and entanglement. Performing kaleidoscopic arts of noticing, the works within these pages render traces of a changed and changing planet with tangible immediacy. Here is poetry as a barometer of the times.

-Mandy Bloomfield, author of Archaeopoetics: Word, Image, History (University of Alabama Press, 2016)

These are poems of the future glimpsed through its shards and fragments here and now – they are unhomely and familiar, revealing a skewed new normal: they are fieldnotes from a world to come.

-David Borthwick, Lecturer in Environmental Literature at University of Glasgow 

Anthropocene is the impact human beings have on the planet, while the trillions of cells making each human body are composed entirely of the fire, soil, air, and water of the earth. In this anthology, the poets are voices for a war the planet is having with itself through its human bodies, and I am very grateful for their reports. I wonder if it is unfair to think of poets as war correspondents, but this book proves we are possibilities for so much more.

CAConrad, author of While Standing in Line for Death (Wave Books, 2017)

The Overlook

I remember burgundy jumpers

I remember the sleeves of them

I remember the wet feel of wool in my mouth

I remember sucking pencils, taste of lead

I remember when tall people gave me badges, they said FUCK ESSO

I remember how the oven door never closed

I remember lighting the back with a long match

I remember the feel of it striking

I remember sunrise from bus stops

I remember it all morning

I remember they supposedly fucked on the green

I remember the security cameras, all six of them

I remember bottles of cider the size of a baby

I remember being cold

I remember being so cold I thought I was dying

I remember being this cold every day for a year

I remember when the bottle smashed in front of me

I remember wearing everyone’s clothes

I remember when he fit his fingers around my thigh, at the highest part, and they touched

I remember the colour of sunsets and ocean spray

I remember cranberry juice

I remember that song 

I remember listening to the sound of a tape click over and over, softly

I remember using too many purples

I remember being told about liking petrol 

I remember the first cigarette, menthols by the sea

I remember when someone said poppers were moreish

I remember how she did her makeup, turquoise glitter gelling almond eyes

I remember shoplifting bourbon 

I remember endless packets of gum 

I remember an abstract notion of madness 

I remember the expense of American candy

I remember the headless cyclist my brother saw, but I wasn’t there

I remember a series of accidents

I remember the muscles in my legs were so weak I could hardly walk

I remember illustrious textbooks

I remember falling over in the deli, very subtly

I remember when he pushed me over

I remember black coffee

I remember safe foods

I remember being sick 

I remember eating three pieces of cake 

I remember throwing away

I remember the chord progression to the song called ‘Angels’

I remember the virgin who wanted to know

I remember telling her 

I remember being in class and infinite and nothing 

I remember the feeling of three tongues in one mouth

I remember pissing against trees

I remember pieces of crisps stamped into carpets 

I remember the invisible bugs on her palms

I remember selling bracelets of luminous, plastic materials

I remember light-up trainers

I remember hot soup 

I remember vodka for lunch on a Wednesday

I remember they knew my name on the bus

I remember coming online and seeing you 

I remember this

I remember holding them

I remember being told I’d fail

I remember failing

I remember failing to fail

I remember taking the train alone

I remember glossy pages

I remember wanting to be warm enough to bare my limbs

I remember nothing but

I remember the river was all that I was

I remember walking my dog the morning she died

I remember a rainbow

I remember the bruises

I remember the bruises all over my breasts

I remember biting my arm not to cry

I remember weeping all winter

I remember the welt 

I remember he bit the inside of my thigh

I remember feeling dumb

I remember the empty train

I remember being illegible

I remember losing my grammar, my handbag

I remember that winter it snowed forever

I remember counting tips

I remember we said sorry to each other

I remember it happened again

I remember holding your hand so hard

I remember it not being you

I remember fireworks from the library

I remember that friend’s apartment

I remember hot water and lemon

I remember backcombing my hair

I remember messaging you the morning he touched me

I remember not wanting

I remember stupid bowls of muesli 

I remember the smell of linseed oil, white spirit

I remember being thinned, and thinning

I remember the lyric 

I remember the clarity 

I remember yesterday

I remember the time you drove all night

I remember the dream where my hair was three times longer

I remember we made it to the beach

I remember being told my kissing was good

I remember gold stars 

I remember so many stars

I remember gasping 

I remember being so thin the air passed through me

I remember that too, the wind

I remember thinking that girl took crack

I remember the word capsule take shape in my mouth

I remember asking for it

I remember not having asked for it

I remember getting it anyway

I remember being turned over

I remember the river inside me as 

I remember that picture where I stood in the river

I remember wanting everyone inside me, I was so hungry

I remember a dress code

I remember the unreal election

I remember the absence of insects

I remember the first time, you said 

I remember we should have done this sooner

I remember the hot bright sense

I remember falling out of the hour

I remember the view 

I remember he didn’t come

I remember coming home

I remember not wanting to

I remember the burning look in her eyes

I remember being sorry for something I hadn’t done

I remember dropping it boiling on my arm

I remember stripping off in the kitchen

I remember the phone call

I remember the gentle white lie I carried around all year

I remember a series of elaborate bandages 

I remember more than a friend

I remember avocado emoji

I remember I knew it all

I remember telling them

I remember this one cool trick for making it pop

I remember your irises amethysts 

I remember my blood

I remember the word ember 

I remember saying a sunbeam

I remember red velvet 

I remember you well in the Ibis Hotel 

I remember the size of a blouse 

I remember she said, it’s worse over there

I remember a hip flask of whisky

I remember a docile reply

I remember falling asleep with the bass underneath us

I remember Arran

I remember Luss

I remember wearing skintight jeans 

I remember graduating into the falling leaves

I remember falling up stairs

I remember the clots

I remember my fingers in your hair

I remember being golden

I remember doing it again

Remember I wasn’t there

*Written in response to a writing exercise during Tawnya Renelle’s workshop on Memoir and Memory.