THE HOUSE OF ZABKA

My name is Marcus Slease. Some people say sleeze. I am used to that. But really it is s+lease. Like leasing a car and adding an s.

My poetry and fiction is in love with poets like Eileen Myles and Bernadette Mayer and Frank O' Hara and Ted Berrigan and Ron Padgett. Also Philip Whalen and some of Jack Kerouac. Both my fiction and poetry is in love with Richard Brautigan and also quite a lot of Russian absurdism and French and Spanish and Polish and American surrealism. Yeah surrealism! There is always more. There is never enough.

My latest book of poetry is RIDES (2014).



Rides has a special mission. This is one of them:



Some other books:

Spanish Fork SPANISH FORK (Country Music 2014)

Mu (so) Dream (Window) from Poor Claudia. Written while living in Seoul South Korea in 2006.
MU (Dream) SO (Window)


My recently finished novella is called Never Mind the Beasts. It is a memoir of magical travel.

Paddy’s Cure - Pascal O’Loughlin & Marcus Slease. Published in limited edition by Deadwood Press (October 2014)

theneweryork:

New Fiction: Katowice Postcards by Marcus Slease
Day 1:
In Poland you get fresh sandwiches for breakfast. There are many kinds of ham and breads and you can choose. Some of the hams are coated in jelly and some are not. The hams in jelly are baby hams. I plop two spoonfuls of Polish coffee in a glass. I put the whistle on the kettle. The kettle whistles and I turn off the gas. You have to take the whistle off the kettle before you can pour the water. I twist and poke and turn the whistle but it won’t come off. I look at the coffee powder at the bottom of my glass mug. Too bad. Another time I say. I go back under my blanket to watch the rain. I eat 12 types of ham on 3 types of bread. In the evening there is a very large bowl of broad beans. They are fleshy and salty and slip right out of their skins.
Day 2:
Broad beans for afternoon snack. Honeycakes for tea break. The sun is a big yellow ball. It is setting behind the mountains in the distance. It is a real sun. It is full of fire. I boil water in 6 kettles for the bath. Without the whistle. All the taps are turned to the right. The hot water has left the estate. It is peaceful in this city. Mostly.
Day 3:
There is a forest out the window. I want to go there but I am told I should not. There are wild boars. They are bright pink and angry. The mother boar chased three children up a tree. I look at the forest and want to see the boars but I wonder if they want to see me. I walk the edge of the forest listening for wild boars. The trees go on forever. I think I see a flash of pink. Hot pink. Wild pink. I hear a scratching somewhere in the foliage. I do not go into the forest. I walk around the edge. I imagine the boar. Does the boar imagine me?
Day 4:
Sitting in the old timers pub I am told a story. There are old Chevys on the walls. There is a black and white chrome Chevy for a bar. That’s where you put the wheat beer. A large man with monster arms leans into me. The woman next to me translates: An uber rich Russian married a uber young Russian. The uber rich Russian was old and dying. The uber young Russian told the uber rich Russian she would bury him in the mall. She said she could see him everyday if he was buried in the mall. She did not want to go to the cemetery.
Day 5:
Scotch and Soda jeans and tomato shirt in big Polish mall. I sit on the bench. That is where I sit. I am benched and benching more than my weight in big Polish rain. The trees are alive and full of people. The trees are in the mall and people are behind them. I pick up a giant Słonecznik. The giant Słonecznik covers my face and I like it. Tonight I will look for moon flowers.
Day 6:
It began to rain. It has rained forever for 6 days and nights. The sky turned into a big sheet and men in balloons went into the sky. They went to find the real sun. They have never found it but the people are hopeful. They are always hopeful when the men in balloons go into the sky. There are many people in the field. We are all waiting to witness a miracle. There is no miracle. We all go home to eat wheat ham. We don’t have any real ham left. We only eat wheat ham on wheat bread and we drink our wheat tea called Ovals. We are tired of wheat. Someday we hope to get back the real sun.
Day 7:
I am sitting on a couch and feeling quiet. There is a big screen called a TV. I do not understand anything. It feels real. I will fly on a samolot. A very big samalot. It will go into the sky into the rain without the sun and it will land on the ground in another place in the rain without sun. I will paint my walls in yellow paste to get back the sun. I will paint my hair yellow. I will pop sun pills and I will pop Tenniscoat records and listen to the sun behind my walls.

Read it:
http://theneweryork.com/katowice-postcards-marcus-slease/

theneweryork:

New Fiction: Katowice Postcards by Marcus Slease

Day 1:

In Poland you get fresh sandwiches for breakfast. There are many kinds of ham and breads and you can choose. Some of the hams are coated in jelly and some are not. The hams in jelly are baby hams. I plop two spoonfuls of Polish coffee in a glass. I put the whistle on the kettle. The kettle whistles and I turn off the gas. You have to take the whistle off the kettle before you can pour the water. I twist and poke and turn the whistle but it won’t come off. I look at the coffee powder at the bottom of my glass mug. Too bad. Another time I say. I go back under my blanket to watch the rain. I eat 12 types of ham on 3 types of bread. In the evening there is a very large bowl of broad beans. They are fleshy and salty and slip right out of their skins.

Day 2:

Broad beans for afternoon snack. Honeycakes for tea break. The sun is a big yellow ball. It is setting behind the mountains in the distance. It is a real sun. It is full of fire. I boil water in 6 kettles for the bath. Without the whistle. All the taps are turned to the right. The hot water has left the estate. It is peaceful in this city. Mostly.

Day 3:

There is a forest out the window. I want to go there but I am told I should not. There are wild boars. They are bright pink and angry. The mother boar chased three children up a tree. I look at the forest and want to see the boars but I wonder if they want to see me. I walk the edge of the forest listening for wild boars. The trees go on forever. I think I see a flash of pink. Hot pink. Wild pink. I hear a scratching somewhere in the foliage. I do not go into the forest. I walk around the edge. I imagine the boar. Does the boar imagine me?

Day 4:

Sitting in the old timers pub I am told a story. There are old Chevys on the walls. There is a black and white chrome Chevy for a bar. That’s where you put the wheat beer. A large man with monster arms leans into me. The woman next to me translates: An uber rich Russian married a uber young Russian. The uber rich Russian was old and dying. The uber young Russian told the uber rich Russian she would bury him in the mall. She said she could see him everyday if he was buried in the mall. She did not want to go to the cemetery.

Day 5:

Scotch and Soda jeans and tomato shirt in big Polish mall. I sit on the bench. That is where I sit. I am benched and benching more than my weight in big Polish rain. The trees are alive and full of people. The trees are in the mall and people are behind them. I pick up a giant Słonecznik. The giant Słonecznik covers my face and I like it. Tonight I will look for moon flowers.

Day 6:

It began to rain. It has rained forever for 6 days and nights. The sky turned into a big sheet and men in balloons went into the sky. They went to find the real sun. They have never found it but the people are hopeful. They are always hopeful when the men in balloons go into the sky. There are many people in the field. We are all waiting to witness a miracle. There is no miracle. We all go home to eat wheat ham. We don’t have any real ham left. We only eat wheat ham on wheat bread and we drink our wheat tea called Ovals. We are tired of wheat. Someday we hope to get back the real sun.

Day 7:

I am sitting on a couch and feeling quiet. There is a big screen called a TV. I do not understand anything. It feels real. I will fly on a samolot. A very big samalot. It will go into the sky into the rain without the sun and it will land on the ground in another place in the rain without sun. I will paint my walls in yellow paste to get back the sun. I will paint my hair yellow. I will pop sun pills and I will pop Tenniscoat records and listen to the sun behind my walls.

Read it:
http://theneweryork.com/katowice-postcards-marcus-slease/

something to send to my love if it ever seems right »

phallice:

i didn’t get better
the only thing that got better for me was your getting somewhat better ((which was a really big important thing don’t get me wrong but
when you got upset and told me that nothing had changed you were telling me that nothing had gotten better))
did you ever look at those optical…

From manuscript: New Foam. Aliens, Poland, balloons, intergalactic vibrations with a woman on a park bench, a never expired alien card, Etc.

altlitgossip:

if you want to listen to some cool music today, I suggest checking out Major Tendons — a mixtape curated by Melissa Broder and featuring art by Stephen Michael McDowell
the mixtape includes songs by Belave (a side-project of Majical Cloudz), Blue Hawaii, and Suicideyear
Melissa Broder was interviewed on Pitchfork about it, read that here
nice

altlitgossip:

if you want to listen to some cool music today, I suggest checking out Major Tendons — a mixtape curated by Melissa Broder and featuring art by Stephen Michael McDowell

the mixtape includes songs by Belave (a side-project of Majical Cloudz), Blue Hawaii, and Suicideyear

Melissa Broder was interviewed on Pitchfork about it, read that here

nice

WHY? - Paper Hearts (Official Video)

bugs bunny in drag. that’s my next costume.