Supernormal!

That's right. Poetry. A group of poets have got together to read at Supernormal festival this year. Last year the festival was incredible. This year I believe that it will be even more incredible! Highlights (for me) include POETRY, Team Sports, After the Rain, The Zero Map, Bolide, Thee Bald Knobbers, Hamilton Yarns, Plurals and the fucking Erisian discosquelch noise/dance eruption of the DEAD PETS! Wow. What I'm saying is that you should be there. Tickets are not much. They are well worth it. Here is a link to the page where I have our merry band listed (scroll to the bottom). Use the rest of the website for the rest of your adventure. COME TO SUPERNORMAL.

Have Heartz

To do this is it who are gladdened



And are forgiven or is it the proximate redemption boy oh boy I'm done with that crap pulled on blue with birds and that can be trust to believe in well trip!



Can't go on passively kneeing panic stooge
outrage cries out outrage out outrageous bodies
spill frothy dilate you spanner not sure if
forever somehow working pitiless of a pretty flower
and beauto stem I in fact am more hungry for
seconds passed off / out of dripper



That you / somewhat are
threatened however called into
this room impossibly stat
drax grax the axing puffed
'it went out / scissors'.

Sleepy head and so on...

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elk gets heavy
in the wet fall splatter
the wind shield eats
away the eye the
little mirror caught the
elk private investigation
begins

Them Crumblies

Dym, obviously.

Try Again

O, Concrete Mother Commons

So one time I sat around like a stupid student drinking beer with my dear friend Alex. We played Worms and listened to people reading difficult poetry. It is actually a really happy memory and a really sad one. I miss him a lot today. R.I.C... Anyway, we got onto listening to Karl Waugh's album 'Concrete Mother London', and somehow ended up listening to Sean Bonney reading 'The Commons' at the same time. Though the two things seem pretty disparate there is a connection in their tone. Both are semblances of negative energy dragged through cityscapes, very lonely, fragmented and alienated. Both disorienting and relentless in their approach (attack). I've finally got round to putting them together, and I am rather pleased with the outcome. Please have a listen.

http://soundcloud.com/ashleyfrench/o-concrete-mother-commons-demo

No wonder!

Band

Band

Ode

Staring out of long parks and forty four
windows opposite where only the
bravest show their heads. I’m asking
how magic projections can answer
localised weather systems, saying
nothing so obvious as I’d like.

Today is softened, and in a roundabout kind
of way the starlings are demonstrating
illusionary deceit/ where to go this morning in a street
and search for a face called ‘Rose’, to fix

these physical incarnations to
kindly lids, they never peered across
our border/ I’d like to share that with you.
This is no longer an empty hemisphere

but a rich trip of silence that we drive out of
in giggling secret and map somehow blind along
to the song along to the song
which can’t really matter, this flattery tastes
light and doesn’t carry seismic impact.

I can’t hold this forever, but
do my best, and write ‘plinky plonky
music’, not so well. We can both hear an owl but
I had it first/ and the evening blankets me quicker, worse

off to be confined in weak plaster again but all that
is innocuous, and we play Houdini, ineluctably. It is
sublime at the distance I stare longingly back.
Crammed into one small space the word is purple and
other common ground/ stood on a mud bank riveted to sounds

that make so much sense and wonderfully barrel on.
Remember how fine it was to watch a crocus trouble soil?
Fixed side by side in half blankets you worry over
grinding teeth who give the game away, and we
sleep in snatches.

It’s no wonder you came panicking down and
how to be grateful? I would have taken your hand or let you fall
into this open neck. Always asking in muted miles
if we can’t elope at this late stage?