Showing posts with label Nine Arches Press. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nine Arches Press. Show all posts

Friday, 9 October 2015

Daniel Sluman's the terrible (Nine Arches, 2015)

I was reading this book to provide a blurb and couldn't help underlining favourite passages--a good sign, to be sure. Here they are:


                                     their heads
full of yes      each night   a heaved dice

& we're driving further through it each year

*

                                              the faces

from our life   passing   like boarded-up doors


from "1991-2006"


the smell of motor oil & sawdust
& the moon threaded through

opening stanza of "confession"


                             & we're here again
passing the whiskey that started the fire
in our throats    watching the town
lights wash slowly   into darkness

end of "matches"


                                ...these
morning-breakers    rubbing

their hands   & checking the mirror
each with their own nightmare

tensed like a razor over
the skin of another morning

facing the exhaustion
of ever-thickening snow

second half of "winter"


I'll keep this lightning trapped in my hip
my strange weather    the dent I sank into
will rise from the sofa in a mist
of cologne & possibilities

end of "doppelganger"


                        where we sit & empty
glass after glass into the night   your son asleep
the walls creeping closer to the ghostly down
on his neck

*

the roof dreaming its only dream
of the weight of rain

from "the cottage"


tonight is a rope we can burn & burn

opening line of "affair"


              she tried to shake the terrible
from me    until the bed glittered like the sea

from "the terrible"


the gaping o of you

from "L O V E"


in dreams


I have two legs   my mother stays
& childhood is a single house

*

with a gin in hand I drink
myself to perfection each night

rather obviously, from "in dreams"



glittering with laughter in the sheets beside you


from "phantom"










Thursday, 18 June 2015

Daniel Sluman's Absence has a weight of its own (Nine Arches, 2012)

Some favourite passages:


                   When you wake

to find a tube hanging from your chest
your ears will swarm with bees,

the doctor will catch you

just before you hit the tiles.

*

                              The tumour on the x-ray

tells you life is a fistful of cobwebs.


from "Letter"

I have adored your ankles,
snaffled the fine hairs that crisp
the small of your back,
& now, after I've licked

the soap-traces from the underside
of your knees, we find ourselves
stalled in the marriage bed;
your maiden name

a peppercorn crushed
in my mouth.

from "After the Wedding"


                                                                       I think 
of you, sealing yourself in a lead coffin where

the faces of the men you shot burst like poppy seeds.

end of "Your Limp Breath Slides off the Hospital Walls"


& the shadows we nailed
to
the floor
start to stir. 

end of "Snow/Swinging #2"


You stare until the letters tremble
like needles on a pine tree.

opening lines of "Ambition & the Individual Talent"


I have pulled apart
the machinery of that night

for the last ten years....

from "Scenes from a Film"


We'll return where we left, forgetting

when we started; each breath
binding us tighter to the past.

end of "When Our Pupils Swallowed the Irises Black"



                  You could tighten

this world in inky loops,

tourniquet this moment
before it bleeds out.


end of "When Lightning Switchblades"


I'm aware of my breath--the push & pull

of this fine wire....

*

When the doctor brought in my scan
my liver had bloomed a Rorschach test,

& we all stared, seeing only one thing.

from "My Death"


The last time we spoke

I was smearing the red flag
of myself around the tub....

*

                      God sees me

as a tiny pink coffin, wandering

from place to place, waiting
to fall into the open earth.

beginning and ending of "Dear Samaritans,
I'm Writing This to Let  You Know Everything's Okay Now"


Last night can't escape your kitchen....

from "The Aftermath"


Violins eased from speakers 
& hovered around our gestures

as a whole summer bled into that night,
a shoddy polaroid.

opening of "Kiss"





Friday, 24 June 2011

Pamphlet review in TLS

A roundup review of pamphlets in today's TLS includes favorable reviews of both Claire Crowther's Mollicle and Tim Liardet's Priest Skear. Read it here.

Friday, 3 December 2010

Claire Crowther's Mollicle, second selection



What Else Can I Do?

Examine yourself, river.
Wind, you have collapsed
from your adrenalin rush.
Sun, you've flooded the vertical,
splashing reeds and palming
planes. Damaged oak,
you have no heart or gut,
your only organ, skin.
I cling to you tighter
than a striped-shell snail
to a fennel stalk.


Claire Crowther
Mollicle

Tuesday, 30 November 2010

Claire Crowther's new pamphlet, Mollicle--first selection


Here's my first selection from Claire's new pamphlet,
Mollicle, published by Nine Arches Press. Tomorrow she'll be launching it in London alongside Matt Bryden with his prizewinning pamphlet, Night Porter (Templar, 2010), and me with my US chapbook, Divinations (Punch Press, 2010), now sold out but for the four copies I'm bringing to the event. For details of the reading, please see the Readings & Events page.


Self Portrait as Windscreen


Do you think I'm clear on every issue
just because I'm glass?
Have you heard yourself calling 'Claire,

Claire, Claire, Claire' when you're confused?
A name is lulling
when you aren't clear on every issue.

So your favourite phrase 'Let's be clear
on this one thing'
is the public face of 'Claire, Claire.'

I see you everywhere, using my nature,
hardened from soft,
imagining you're clear. Fired, made

to soften, harden again. We're laminated.
The crack that comes
won't shatter us or your calling.


Claire Crowther
Mollicle (Nine Arches, 2010)


Wednesday, 20 October 2010

"Something Moved" by Ruth Larbey

I was captivated by this poem in a new Nine Arches pamphlet and thought (having gained permission from the publisher and the author) to share it here.

Something Moved


He smiled from inside the metal door.
I’ll see you at home he said, and
didn’t kiss me.

Listening carefully one day
something moved
and I felt hot with the first surge of what
it felt like to live branchlessly.

Now, whenever the day brightens
suddenly, like a tin-foil-flash,

I know the world is dark elsewhere.


Ruth Larbey
Funglish