Issue 32: Alex Marsh

Hoofstock

Truth spoils

the other Atlantic 

A cattle drive

in Beery let down

So far 

Still Industrial 

Golden blue maws
and the new

response to

blatant localism

When the tracking sheet

Fails

a hills sillage

stories Rams

like noise around

a photo 

The Bag of Suck 

is Plainsong

Will you happen to me again 

Name-sensitive-landfill 

End of eras

You happen to catch

A lovely goal in

Barnsley

Better in the same sky

Eaten up

in intentional loops 

the Unmade roads

A lot of tall things 

Then the Sad bungee

into wool

and Porridge pats us

Out of the station
Into the sadness

12 ages of lamppost
in Tiergarten

lung worm and the
Fake snow specialist

the bridge reads Blackfriar
but the time says new floor

pine sluice dipped
in summer lightning

cycle empty

Clear away in the morning 

Clear from away 

Ringinglow

Death is a fuck thing

and freedom is the
freedom to think otherwise

All radiated and alone

In Usable daylight 

Rusting pines

& dust that voted for Eisenhower

One day none of this will be ours

the Four o Clock midnights 

& minibuses to
clear lake capital

Never an irrelevant deer or

something we’ll forget
the rest of our lives.

Endcliffe Pk

As far as I can work out

Habit weakens all

2 grey teeth

Inhale combustion 

Won't breathe better

The other side of Mount Soundtrack 

Kent County access 

Is a pylon pile-on

My concrete eyesore

is a living thing

All Paved with Eel spine

Wave belly and the asterisk

to nowhere 

That condition between others

like the Thumbtacks in the trees

& some stingy sky

keeping up the

Blue log of
three way scrape  

hard-standing 

behind the luck.

Another function of

the pressure 

Woodfresh and

Muckish lough salt

The hugebaby in the suntrough
all caught up.

Screaming Line

Dog ideal on
Sun in the Sands

    crates nothing but

    Document park 

    Pub salad &

    3 factors of dawn
  

    another Daily poem
    from behind the moon

    Frog in radiator 

    Wailing to Perch 

    Screaming line

    At the 

    Still & Star
    stayed deep in

    Yesterday’s heads

    Then the poem called Pace

    Queued up in 89 words

    Listening to the tapes
    Riding from Eight hours

      I love you brick building

    The Quality chippers

    across Night old ice

    Eulogy for the last union set

    Duck rhymes with woes

    Cows mean safe 

    Some Pine tree comfort for

    The General drinkery 

    The pearl of Kalmykia 

       In

    Geneva Bold Font

    when the  

    Week hasn’t found me

    Some 

    Late harvest ales

    on Houndsditch

    Days gone down 

       To

    Pass the pig

    Impetus to

    Make free

    It’s nothing out 

    You realise the land

    Between things 

    only so real 

                       to share the grass with

                       the white deer.

Alex Marsh is a poet from London. His previous books include Silo Bliss (SPAM Press), Ten Red Mornings (Death of Workers) and Two in the Wave (Distance No Object). He also co-runs OUT ELSE and co-edits Ludd Gang, a bi-monthly magazine set up to support the Poets' Hardship Fund.

Copyright © 2024 by Alex Marsh, all rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of Copyright law. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the notification of the journal and consent of the author