A teacher once told me that poetry aspires to the simplicity of the nude.

To be naked, he said, [...]]]>

A teacher once told me that poetry aspires
to the simplicity of the nude.

To be naked, he said, was to speak without footnotes.
Though, in my opinion, a naked person
usually has more explaining to do than anyone.

(’Twelve Nudes’)

My new collection, Twelve Nudes is released today, courtesy of Penned in the Margins. This book is a limited edition run of 200 copies, all signed by my fair hand. It comes in a very fetching gold foil jacket with a SPECIAL ORIGAMI GIFT. Oh my goodness!

The entire book is conceived as a single sequence of poems. Poem by poem, the book tries to reinterpret the idea of the nude, leaving the body behind to examine other forms of exposure. Buildings are pulled apart, telepaths ruin birthday parties, insides become outsides, and yet every layer that is removed reveals an even more complicated surface beneath. We’ve all been there.

If you fancy buying a copy, the fastest way to get it is to buy it direct from my publisher.

If you fancy getting one even quicker, then come along to the Free Word Centre in Farringdon on Tuesday 5th October. Tim Clare, Joe Dunthorne and myself will be doing our OULIPO-inspired show, Found in Translation. It’s free, although you have to book in advance. Penned in the Margins will have a stall set up, with a bunch of nudes to hustle.

Nude XI

Dear Telepath, here at my makeshift bureau,
I’m trying my hand at a picturebook

about clouds that hang above airports.
The book is set in June 2004.

You can’t hear the polyphonic ringtones,
but they’re there all right.

Things are pretty samey round here. The lake is a bit greener,
the antique shops have closed. We get the hunting channel now.

I just wanted to thank you for the box of broken joysticks.
It’s the kind of thing only you would think of.

No one has seen you since Jim’s party, where you took
apart the swimming pool to see how it worked.

You looked so beautiful thrashing about in the water.
The sky full of Welsh thunder. Some of those clouds have won awards.

Whenever I think of you at night, I know you’re tuning in,
sitting there in your house with its see-through walls,

glass hedgerows, all of suburbia cut through into cross-sections.
The lusts of the upper sixth, humming like an electrical storm,

mixed with the fluorescent dreams of spiders,
the boy next door, checking the smell on his fingers

after lifting weights. I try to imagine the shape of my thoughts
in the hope that the feedback loop boosts the signal.

Your police reports are inadmissible. You burn toast.
You sold your best painting to a knob and you know it.

I hope that makes you feel a little less special.
This town is full of kids from unaired pilots who sandbag their personality tests and
I’m sorry

I think you were the only person who knew
what I was trying to do

opposed to what I actually did.

THE THREE STIGMATA OF PACMAN

A show about time travel by Ross Sutherland

ROSS SUTHERLAND’S JOB IS TO PREDICT THE FUTURE. As a journalist for an influential and notoriously histrionic newspaper, Ross spends his days scribbling  predictions about the impending apocalypse. When a run-in with a fishing magazine reveals the devastating power of self-fulfilling prophecy, Ross pledges to repair the [...]]]>

THE THREE STIGMATA OF PACMAN

A show about time travel by Ross Sutherland

ROSS SUTHERLAND’S JOB IS TO PREDICT THE FUTURE. As a journalist for an influential and notoriously histrionic newspaper, Ross spends his days scribbling  predictions about the impending apocalypse. When a run-in with a fishing magazine reveals the devastating power of self-fulfilling prophecy, Ross pledges to repair the damage he has done to the timeline.

Buying a time capsule from Whitechapel market, Ross sets off across the UK, trawling cabaret clubs and mic-spots in search of stories, poems and songs to send to the next-but-one generation, encouraging audiences to predict their own futures. Things go so well that he even starts to write a one-man show about it. But when the recession hits and Ross finds himself unable to pay the rent, Ross begins to abuse his new-found power and retreat into his own reality.

January 12th to January 30th 2010 (not Sun/Mon). 9.00pm (60mins).

THE OLD RED LION THEATRE, 418 St John St, London EC1V 4NJ.

Tickets £10 for all performances – available from Ticketweb (http://bit.ly/oldredlion) or from the ORL Box Office (020 7837 7816).

Special Offer: Save £4 by booking to see my show and the excellent The Petty Concerns of Luke Wright (7.30pm show) on the same night for only £16.

Exclusive Limited Website Offer: Save £7 by booking to see my show The Petty Concerns of Luke Wright on the same night between Wed 13th and Sat 16th for only £14. Simply quote promo code ‘Poetry Party’ when booking for both shows. This is a strictly limited offer so book as soon as possible.