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The Rock (not the muscle-headed Hollywood Rock who doesn’t perform his own stunts but looks hard like he does) in T.S. Eliot’s play explains, The lot of man is ceaseless labour,Or ceaseless idleness, which is still harder,Or irregular labour, which is not pleasant. Now assuming idle here isn’t a play on idol—which, with a lit-crit [...]
So pleased to have John Looker (a poet I personally admire & enjoy reading immensely) to start off our new series Chapbook Confessions.
I really do encourage you, after reading John’s piece, to have a glimpse at what this Chapbook Confession malarkey is all about & if you fit the criteria & want to contribute, then we would be more than pleased to read what you send us. We are hoping this will be not only useful to readers, but perhaps…what’s the right word, Ah! Cathartic (that should do it) for the writers themselves.
Chapbook Confessions is a series in which poets discuss, at length, the writing of their most recent collection of poems, in whatever way they desire. For more information on the series, go here.
Below, John Looker writes on his 2015 collection The Human Hive (Bennison Books)
Asked to explain the secrets of his craft, the alchemist would wrap his cloak more tightly and withdraw to his tower in silence. The mountebank however, holding his phial of coloured water high, might become loquacious about herbs gathered by moonlight on the shores of Arabia.
I feel uncomfortable talking about how I write my poems. I would prefer to say nothing. Saying anything at all incurs the risk of becoming a charlatan. However, as I’ve been ‘shown the instruments’ and have to say something, I’ll try to find a middle way. I am grateful to Underfoot for publishing some of my poems, and I…
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i have decided after some deliberation this week, to take a hiatus from blogging. Perhaps a month or so, until the summer is over— i think it may be searing my brain, short circuiting some of the neuronal connections, my dendrites are firing blanks. i furthermore, received a high number of rushed rejections from journals [...]
Another from The Wallace Variations. After too much time in the spotlight of the media, Wallace needed to get away & visited me in Jeju. The Wreck of the Wallace He was a salvaged man in my B&B, the media’s attention started getting on his tits, he needed to escape interrogation & so took temporary [...]
Very pleased to have 3 poems published at the High Window alongside so many talented poets. Thanks to the editors David Cooke & Anthony Costello for taking them. The Resident Artist, Angela Smyth also did art work for my poem Cover Story. The poem Cover Story, just to give you a bit of background, is also [...]
A tousle with a Keyboard Warrior ‘Keyboard Warrior’ (Footnote 1. i. A Person who, being unable to express his anger through physical violence (owning to their physical weakness, lack of bravery and/or conviction in real life), instead manifests said emotions through the text-based medium of the internet, usually in the form of aggressive writing that [...]
An oldish poem i have neglected for sometime, until i recently injected some new words & remodeled it. Storm & Stress the light switch of the storm shaped like the roots of the 팽 tree, its fibrous anchors split the torrential downpour in a sparagmotic seizure & tugged the claggy cloud, the sky itself with [...]
This poem first saw the light of day at FourTiesLitReview this time last year. i was grateful then & remain so. They are open for submissions, so send your best. This is a revised version from the original. Fishermen i find scorch marks, black smears barely noticeable against scoria rock hemming the sea wall, a [...]
Very pleased to report i have 6 poems to kick start the new journal Underfoot, started by the amiably mannered & amply minded Tim Miller. I unfortunately missed the vol-au-vonts & the champagne reception, slept in, time-zones are a meither, sometimes. Get over & like, comment & submit. i foresee a future of fine poets [...]
A simple lyrical poem from the time i wrote as much poetry as i could in a week, which prompted me to start to write from my experience of my environment & life, which i was previously not doing & struggling to write any poetry; in fact until my Week of Poems, i was on [...]
“ There, I am desperately free and naive; but knowing this oh dear happiness, dear misery; there is no distinctive sign except that one tearing one’s heart, and a smile destined to nobody(...)" E.Stachura
all about travelling in korea
come lay down ink...
Vincent Hanley
