Pocket Venus

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Pocket VenusMichael Blackburn, 2011

Limited edition originally published by

The Red Ceilings Press, UK

www.theredceilingspress.co.uk


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they didn't teach you to lie

it came to you as naturally

as a river falling downthey believed youyour lies acquired the kind of truth

films have, and memoriesso even when you're saying nothing

you're still lying


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before we crossed the border we buried

our gear in the dirt beside the road

they let us through in minutes

returning, they stripped the car

safe across the linewe lit our cigarettes

hassle, said Jim and openedthe ashtray

which was full of roaches


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unidentified plane crash

west African route

mysterious unmarkedbig enough to carryColombian cartel

worried about this new frontlack of resources

close to being overwhelmedcocaine-transit zone

God-fearing

becoming a user-countrya rush of new mansionsofficial oversightno one questions the sourceoutright war


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once you've bought it

it's worthless

why do you do that?why don't you copy itor steal it

or borrow it or something?it's worthless

why do you do that?


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in terms of light

the pocket Venus

vaguely frighteningemerged out of someprimordial chaos


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gaga

pretty or sexy

meaty moonwild

jumped the fashion

too hardwondrousness

brilliant bonkerscan't wait


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floating orange ghosts

up in the darkness

fast slowyou cant tellif near or far

sudden change of courseyou never see them land


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how well do you walk through the fire

the rally was massive

comrade Joseph writesI didn't like the menuand the chairs were uncomfortable

the prototype is outI am so excited about the collars


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four statements for the apocalypse

the real battle will be the battle of Spain

I started doing meditation two years agoa violent man kills to survivehow nice it is to laugh


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and afterwards

keeping our souls clean

passing through the Levels of Oblivionnot drinking from the Riverof Unmindfulness

we shall have our rewardthe story will save us

this is not what I believe


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another blonde

wearing a red top on tv

and it's only nine o'clockbad news is always goodfrom a blonde wearing a red top

and I like the weather betterfrom a blonde wearing a red top


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meetings

oh God

not anotherfucking tickbox


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To the strikers at Tula, June 1920,

sign this:

I, the undersigned,a stinking dog and a criminal,repent

before the Revolutionary Tribunaland the Red Army,

confess my sinsand promise to work

conscientiously.

That's if you want to get out of this campand work again.


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in the face of

such adversity

I keep my eyesshut reallyreally tight


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due to a full moon

there is pornography

exploitationnarcotics abuseburlesque

channel streamsof predatory sexism

no discussionand nobody gets hurt


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my green past

this English field

summer dusk lightgold on steeple and barnthree girls in the garden

they sing


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Danger road is blocked for hours

Roundabout work draws to a close

All welcome as hotel opens doors of a new pubStation revamp is well on trackPlea for information after women shocked by sex pest

Top cop faces conduct inquiryCharges over fire at house

Home Care service user dismayed by councilPsychologist assesses Town's struggles


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1) you're taking a lot of things

for granted

2) just tell me where in the worldyou will find these angelswho are going to organise

society for you?3) well, I don't even trust you to do that


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very nasty

gin, psychiatrists

duck pondsvillage forebodingsa mockery of attention

meekly, I stepped in


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Michael, here come some more stories

we ran into them at 18,000 feet

we went into them line asternI kicked the rudder, let goin a four-second burst

I saw the tracerhe seemed to hang motionless

and he spun out of sightit had happened

he was dead and I was alive


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in the beginning was the Mud

and the Mud was with God

and the Mud was Godand the rest was Mud


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She retched suddenly, puking the last mouthful

of vodka and lime all over his left knee and foot.

He leapt up in disgust.Oh, for Gods sake! he shouted, what was that for?I told you, she snapped, wiping her mouth,

I told you not to show me your wrists.


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Michael Blackburn's previous collections include TheProphecy of Christos (Jackson's Arm) and The AscendingBoy(Flambard Press). His most recent titles are Big OnThe Hawkesburyand Spyglass Over The Lagoon, both

published by The Knives Forks And Spoons Press. Oncedescribed by Neil Astley of Bloodaxe Books as an enfantterrible of British poetry he has now matured into agrandpre terrible. Founder of Sunk Island Publishing,erstwhile editor of various magazines, one of the country's

first Literature Development Workers back in the twentiethcentury and a former Writer in Residence on the Internet

when most people didn't know what an internet was,

Michael Blackburn now teaches English and CreativeWriting at the University of Lincoln.

A recording of each poem in this pamphlet is available on

Audioboo - http://audioboo.fm/SunkIsland

Michael Blackburn on Google+.
http://audioboo.fm/SunkIslandhttps://plus.google.com/101854373867297331104http://audioboo.fm/SunkIslandhttps://plus.google.com/101854373867297331104

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Pocket Venus

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