Updated: 5 days ago

In writing this blog I’ve learned at least one thing: writing is better than not writing. It’s taken too long to be able to make that blindingly simple observation. I’ve spent most of the years and the few lives on offer, not writing. I suppose I had to learn how to suspend my own critic.

I’ve learnt another thing. Seamus Heaney and WB Yeats seem to be working away in the background. I see them as guides in helping to understand an art that I care about. Others might see them as perpetuators of patriarchy or worse. Sometimes the cyber security software slows things to a standstill. Why I remember their words is not because of their biogs.

My primary aim is not in critiquing poems, instead celebrate the fact that writing opens the potential for celebrating what is.

Existence is a function of relationship – Alan Watts

I’m interested in the way poems can come from somewhere bigger than the self.

I had wanted to write about ‘cut-through’. (Stares at the screen for minutes, mouth open) Just that sometimes I suspect that I don’t ‘get’ things, I otherwise would. But there’s no doubt about the impact of Anne Boyer’s Garments Against Women. I ‘get’ things but the difficulty lies in the clear communication of such reception. But Anne Boyer’s Garments Against Women makes an impression. Not a palpable impact. Rather a wholesale reorientation of the world.

A world is in fact the projection of meaningful patterns onto the surrounding space of lived experience, and the sharing of a common code whose key lies in the forms of life of the community itself - Franco ‘Bifo’ Berardi

Demystify inspiration. Is it Metoo time for the muse?

Garments Against Women made me want to watch less television.And I did.


My attention is compromised

Yeah but isn’t everyone’s?

Maybe but my attention isn’t what it used to be.

I know, I’m the same…

Fuck off and get Parkinson’s, then we can struggle to talk.

But I do have Parkinson’s

Do you?

Yeah, of course I do.

A law that exceeds the bounds of law

What is that law but poetry

Anne Boyer

For better, further reading:


Updated: Jul 29

Out in the bay, calm, the shiver of wave, palette of shale, turquoise and silver

And the subtle outlines of trails that trail off from cloud shadow and water currents

From movements above and below, an unshakeable feeling, this urge, to trace the arcs

Outlines and flat blobs in the sea, the water scarred, the subtle delineations that seem

Meaningless to anyone else but me, this prepossession ephemeral yet careworn creased

A scream shattered and the fragments ooze into the sluice and slice of the sea

The loose shapes rest and wax and wobble outwards of themselves towards

Dispersal or are lost in the tumult of external pressures from coming Atlantic storms

Roughening up but presently this tempered scene is key to some matutinal secret

A dispensation from other wasted mornings yet still inured to the lack of answer

Thus putting such a premium on some sort of utterance, a twist and shout even

But demur tending to downplay performance, always turning down a dance

For pointless appointments under the pretence of paying the rent outstanding

And now I shiver, in my right hand, spiritedly and fail to play the piano in the air

When asked politely, a few weeks with Mr Keys who lived near The Hole in The Wall

But I never had the feel for it, I could throw a stone or kick a ball for hours however

My Disordered Movement proved, my fate pronounced, an unshakeable shake

I’m branching off and I’m branching out to see if I’ve the scope to sue for music.

To dispel any obscure argument for ignorance, to outgrow once and for all

All the wet dreams of adolescent idolatry, instead hold in abeyance the answers

To the bland demand of meaning, instead say some words for the drowned souls

Untaxed, unsolicited and dismiss, as Fletcher in Porridge does, those who blather

As ‘all wind and water’ and endeavour to cut the nets, to let slip the truck with

The mackerel skies, to allay the rub of obsolescence, to throw a party.

Martin Sharry. 2014.

Updated: Jul 29

In Lisa Baraitser’s Enduring Time, she mines the term ‘psychosocial studies’. She quotes Judith Butler from the foreword to Psychosocial Imaginaries.

But what if the relationship between the two terms (psychic and social) cannot rely on a causal or narrative sequence?...the analysis of their relation is one that tracks forms and effects of permeability, impingement, resonance, phantasmatic excess, the covert or implicit operations of psychic investments in the organization of social life, the way that organization falters or fails by virtue of the psychic forces it cannot fully organize, the psychic registers in which social forms of power take hold?

The announcement of an uneasy compatibility reminds me of Maris’ mode of linking material. Language is stripped of any potential musicality. The absence of rhyme and metre creates an immediate voice that makes an impression through the light touch regulation of sexual politics. To all the effort of ‘the labour of Adam’ Maris might have Eve respond ‘oh really?’ This attitude is evident in a somewhat blasé approach to organizing text. I’m reminded of Craig Raine’s insistence that the line is the ‘unit of sense’. Here the possibility of a ‘unit of sense’ seems too prescriptive. The lines finish within other lines. There is a concern with authority already inherent in language. One response to this situation is to freely borrow and re-purpose lines from other texts. The serious playfulness yields entertaining poems with a fresh edge.

Instead of opposition, betweeness or collision there’s a different mode of arrangement. Things are layered in easy stanzas or simply placed side by side. The Baraitser essay opens with the definition below. It seems apt to import here to describe the general mode of working material.

Trans –


< Latin, combining form of trans (adv. and preposition) across, beyond, through.

Collins English Dictionary 2009

The link below leads to a very interesting piece by Maris. Also mentions Craig Raine. I've included an excerpt.


Hayes: Exactly. It might have offensive stuff in it, but I would not use “offensive” as an adjective for any piece of art that I’ve ever made. Transgressions and transcendence, that’s really what we want, when we think about art. The status quo is real, the main floor is a real floor, but then there’s transgression, which is like the basement […] and then there’s the attic, which is transcendence. What else is there?

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