Poem Brut #159 – Each of the tentacles
Each of these visual poems is a multitemporal document that begins with a walk on a beach in search of objects of interest to photograph and ends with the beachcombing of a collection of found texts in search of phrases. These found phrases, reassembled on the surface of the photograph, re-enliven the images during periods of time when I am far from the beach and longing to return. In moments of landlock and heightened desire for the meditative pleasures of walking the coastline, I return to my photographs. These photographs are a part of the record I keep of rare beach walks. When I return to this record in my Manchester flat, it gives me a renewed sense of the surreal and mysterious quality of things encountered at the edge of the tide. The collage poems I create on the surface of these photographs are responsive but also impulsive: they rely on a randomness that is in tune with the chance discoveries made on the beach.
In the 159th of the Poem Brut series, new poetry by Francesca Brooks.
Cake Genius
Anouska has fashioned seventeen tiny marzipan peonies. Leon is weeping over a failed custard. Padraig is doing something with smoke. His is a life of drudgery and his creations represent the possibility of becoming something greater than himself. This is the sort of endeavour where, despite high stakes, everyone is supportive of everyone else. The only exception is Charles, who makes no secret of his competitiveness, his desire to be designated the Cake Genius. He visibly smirked in rehearsal when everyone else’s key lime pies turned out like crap. But even Charles isn’t so bad. When it comes to being an excellent baker, even the most chalk-and-cheese personalities have more in common with each other than with those who don’t bake at all.
A short story by Michael Conley.