Russell Jones

Cadaver, Speak

2012-03-02T02:29:00.001-08:00

Imagine, with your feeble mind, what a corpse might say - if it were able - when laid out on the anatomy class slab, being hacked to pieces.

Well you don't have to!

Marianne Boruch hosts a night of readings by medical and literature students (including my miserable self) in Edinburgh's Old Anatomy Theatre on 21st March. We'll each be reading three of Boruch's poems from her collection, 'Cadaver, Speak'

Drag your lifeless sack of limbs there. I command thee!

Check out Boruch here: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/marianne-boruch

Russell Jones

Interdisciplinary Science Review: Poetries and Sciences in the 21st Century

2012-02-15T05:12:00.000-08:00

Please feel free to circulate this call for papers!!!

Call for papers

Interdisciplinary Science Reviews (www.isr-journal.org)

“Poetries and Sciences in the 21^st Century”

This is to invite proposals for contributions to a themed issue of Interdisciplinary Science Reviews on the topic of “Poetries and Sciences in the 21^st Century”, to be published as volume 39, number 1, March 2014.

Reference here to the present century is meant to imply that the relationship between poetry and science is historically contingent and that our current views of it are informed and challenged by those of the past. The intended aim of this issue is not so much to sketch what we believe to be true but to question our views by considering where they have come from and to speculate on what is to be done through an examination of the interactions between poetry and science.

As a point of departure, consider the literary critic I.A. Richards’ Poetries and Sciences, a work whose writing and revisions span the middle half of the 20^th century. Richards asked what poetry could become in a world deeply and broadly affected by technoscience, arguing that the revolution it has brought about is “too drastic to be met by any such half-measures” as promotion of wonder at the marvels of nature (1970: 52-3). What could wonder be but an attitude of ignorance when these marvels have, or are assumed to have, lawlike explanations? Science has neutralised nature, he argued, and so deprived poetry of its original well-spring: “the magical view of the world” (1970: 50). What could a poet say to those for whom making sense ultimately requires the radically plain style of scientific reasoning? Richards’ solution was to cut the language of the imagination free from the language of belief, hence from epistemological certainty, implying our philosophical freedom to explore possible worlds.

Consider also the psychologist Jerome Bruner’s essay “Possible Castles”, from his Actual Minds, Possible Worlds (1986). Here Bruner argues that philosophical questioning of science (by Thomas Kuhn et al.) has reawakened the ancient, even tired question of the “two cultures” by revealing science to be historically contingent. In response to this reawakening he gives us two opposed trajectories for the sciences and the humanities, both originating in curiosity and speculation about the world, but one moving steadily away from ambiguity while the other moves towards increasing “the alternativeness of human possibility” (Bruner 1986: 53). He concludes by quoting Aristotle on the poet’s function: “to describe not the thing that has happened, but a kind of thing that might happen” (Poetics II.9). What matters to the poet, Bruner says, is verisimilitude to conceivable human experience. The poet’s job, we might say, is to expand what is conceivable by finding the best words, whereas the scientist’s is to extend what is explicable by equally audacious, but differently directed, acts of the imagination.

Much closer to our time, physicist Robert B. Laughlin declares that, as much in physics as in biology, we have come out of the reductionism which defined science throughout the 20^th century (2005: 208) – and so created Richard’s dilemma – into an Age of Emergence. If so, then the question to be rescued from the muddle of “two cultures” is truly vigorous and contemporary. Let us say that, to quote theoretical biologist Robert Rosen, we foreswear the crippling mental habit of “looking only downward toward subsystems, and never upward and outward” (2000: 2), which renders us unable to see emergent organizational principles, of poetry or life itself. What then might poetry and science have to do with each other? What might that pre-eminent expression of technoscience, computing, have to say about poetry and how might it go about saying it? How might our most adventurous theories of poetic discourse inform a computing that works “upward and outward” from its object of study?

Practical Matters

In the first instance we request abstracts of up to 500 words, highlighting the key areas of interest and possible direction of your contribution.

Articles should have a maximum length of 6000 words.

All contributions will be peer-reviewed.

Articles may contain black and white illustrations (for which authors should seek the necessary permissions).

The theme of this issue is open to interpretation and we welcome a variety of submissions. In particular, though, we aim to publish one article which considers Richards’ Poetries and Sciences in context with his career (including his involvement with the Macy Conference of 1951) as a way of revisiting Richards’ interactions with the topic and comparing them with those of contemporary poets and literary critics.

For details on format see www.maney.co.uk/journals/notes/isr

Please address all enquiries to the issue editor:

Russell Jones

r.jones-5@sms.ed.ac.uk

September 2011

Schedule

06/2012           Declare intention to contribute (title and abstract)
12/2012           Secure commitment to submit article
06/2013           Submit first version
09/2013           Reviewers' comments and decisions back to authors
12/2013           Final materials due to the publisher
03/2014           Publication (vol 39.1)

Please address all enquiries to the issue editor:

Russell Jones

r.jones-5@sms.ed.ac.uk

September 2011

Works Cited

Bruner, Jerome. 1986. “Possible Castles”. In Actual Minds, Possible Worlds. 44-54. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press.

Laughlin, Robert B. 2005. A Different Universe: Reinventing Physics from the Bottom Down. New York: Basic Books.

Richards, I.A. 1970. Poetries and Sciences: A Reissue of Science and Poetry (1926, 1935) with Commentary. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Rosen, Robert. 2000. Essays on Life Itself. Complexity in Ecological Systems Series. New York: Columbia University Press.

"Normal" Stuff

2011-11-26T08:16:00.000-08:00

Scraping my eyes across my blog I realised it's lately full of picture poems and sound poems and so so so on. That's not for everyone, so here be a "normal" poem which is based on the painting (shown) that my miserly but talented artiste freund, Daniel Young, painted (painting is called "They Show Him the Stone" - see some of his strokes here http://www.absolutearts.com/portfolios/d/danielyoung/)

Russell Jones

Back like a blograt

2011-11-17T03:28:00.000-08:00

You probably haven't noticed that nothing much has been going on here at LoathingHQ recently. That's because I was doing other very important things like shaving my arse and singing gangsta rap to the elderly. They ruddy love it.

Well to occupy your fragile mind here are a few visual poems for you to hate.

Go away.

"Event Horizon: At the Alter"

"Incubation"

"Fishing"

Russell Jones

Eddiversary

2011-08-18T07:16:00.000-07:00

It's the 1st anniversary of Scots Makar (Scots poet laureate) Edwin Morgan's death this week. If you don't know his work then I definitely recommend you check it out. You can read and listen to some here:
http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoet.do?poetId=1682

I interviewed Eddie in 2009, he was a lovely guy who is greatly missed by many. The Scottish Poetry Library has a small note on their blog, here: http://scottishpoetrylibrary.wordpress.com/

This is a poem (also published in an Edwin Morgan tribute anthology by SwissLoungeProductions) I'd written before Eddie died but that, to me, seems resonant now:

About Edwin Morgan

I believe too much that your white hair was once black,

that your ears are failing, that your oceanic eyes sit back,

loosely waving in your wheelchair. I thought you had a knack

for immortality, that your Whittrick never abandoned ship. In the snack

bar you revealed a dismal hump, a tented animal, long-blind, hunch-back,

half-paralysed and we were ready for that. But Eddie, how can we let the crack

of heaven wash the dishes? How can we hear Nessie’s song, save the white rhino, track

those distant, careful worlds? How can we light the cigarette without the fire of your lips?

GO READ SOME OF HIS POETRY

Captain Cliche at Captain's Bar

2011-08-09T02:23:00.000-07:00

Arrrr, yo ho ho and...blergh. That's enough pirate noise. Shut up.

Well it's that time of year again, the time I seclude myself from society even further, sit in the darkness and vomit into my hands, laughing like a traffic cone. It's the Edinburgh Festival.

But for one night only I'll leave my hovel and scrape my way to Captain's Bar to deliver some words to the unwitting public.

It's free!
Doors open at 7, the evening starts at 7:30 and ends by 8:30
It's free to get in
Captain's Bar, South College St. EH8 9AA
Did I mention it's free?
http://captainsedinburgh.webs.com/festivalhaversblethers.htm

Russell Jones

Breaking Open the Medikit: Andrew Philip’s The Ambulance Box

2011-07-01T04:19:00.001-07:00

Breaking Open the Medikit: Andrew Philip’s The Ambulance Box

The half-rusted first aid kit that attires the cover of Philip’s first book of poetry is apt: this is a book of halves and struggles. “A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words” said Robert Frost, and in The Ambulance Box this transformation is frequently – though not exclusively – fuelled by the death of Philip’s son, to whom the book is dedicated. The Ambulance Box takes on a new meaning, then, to its reader who is brought in to share the various trials of the father, the poet, who simultaneously memorialises trauma whilst attempting to distance himself from it.

The collection opens with one of a series of four “Hebridean Thumbnails” that are placed throughout the book. “islands buried in the sky’s white sands”, reads the first, under the Gaelic title “fo cheò” (which translates as ‘mist-covered’). The poem sets things in motion with a conciseness of word and image that is typical of Philip: no word is superfluous, each is simple but well considered, there is a link to the land but also a sense of beauty and isolation in tandem. The islands are made unreal by their contrast with the sky’s “white sand” which is concurrently transient (as mist) and concrete (as sand). There is a clear play on language structures too, made apparent through Philip’s use of English, Gaelic and Scots throughout the book but also through his use of ambiguity. Here “islands” which, when read aloud, shifts between the singular and the plural (‘islands buried’ -as merely image- and ‘island’s buried’ -as an active process) enact the uncertainty of physical and spiritual existence that riddle the collection.

Philip’s approach is frequently lyrical and formal but not without diversity. One of the most successful series in the collection, “Pilgrim Variations” experiments with notions of exploration through its appealing use of enjambment and by successfully twinning opposing images and phrases to develop a sense of displacement:

1. THE DEPARTURE BOARD

If it’s your avowed attempt , go then: leave

and live among us

separately. Laden like that, you can forget

a swift departure for all

your talk of high speed links to yonder

wicket gate.

The series maintains the electricity of its language, which is consistently unsettling but playful, whilst alternating its form to deliver a flowing narrative that seems irregular/unusual but frequently engaging. That said, the formal structure of The Ambulance Box is not without its flaws: it too frequently reverts to two-line stanza structures which, although give a sense of prolonged and sustained theme, eventually lose their spark. This is the poet returning to what he knows and what he is good at yet it sometimes feels as though he is resting on his laurels. This is perhaps symptomatic of the frequent return to the internal struggles of the poet, the revealing of a mind in turmoil over attempts to remember or purposefully forget the past, which is bound to repeat itself in the mind and on the page.

Perhaps the most outstanding quality of The Ambulance Box comes from the poet’s inability to maintain a coherent understanding of his own feelings towards his son’s death. As such the collection becomes a portrait of confusion, chaos, inadequacy, attempts at reconciliation and understanding, of guilt and acceptance, and ultimately of love. But we are never made to feel sorry or pity, only to consider the nature and fragility of the human body and mind. Like those early islands buried in the sky’s white sand there is a great feeling of isolation brought about by a narrator who is habitually on the outside looking inward, but permeating this is an ore of hope, typified in the collection’s namesake poem, “The Ambulance Box”:

... our various wounds

are at home with the box

and all it contains.

Hear us,

shoulder to shoulder in the dusk,

celebrate life – sprained and splinted

broken

bandaged

set to heal

In The Ambulance Box hope is bound by this unnamed community who sit “shoulder to shoulder” but never mouth to mouth. Hope resides in the mind of the individual, in the assurance of the physical presence of the world around, in language, in the very soil of its creation. The various written languages of the book are testament to the transient nature of the collection as a whole: almost everything is undergoing change. The land, however, is reliable, it sustains the nomadic mind of the poet who is split between worlds of isolation and community, peace and anguish; a concept most honestly spoken in the third of the “Hebridean Thumbnails”, “solus na stoirme” (‘Storm Light’):

where sky and land split a fragment of grief flickers

This reliance of the stability of the land and its ability to revivify memory is no new thing, though Philip makes a point of drawing us toward it without overstating the cause. He creates community and stability through taking the lump in his throat, his lovesickness and successfully finding the words to voice them.

Though not always hitting the high notes this collection works as a complete body to promote persistence of the human spirit. Philip’s voice is honest, its cause just. His understanding and exploitation of formal technique is apt and, at times, excitingly enigmatic. Some of the language experiments seem out of place (see his Scots rewriting of Rilke’s “Spanish Dancer”, which works in its own right but just sits awkwardly) or lack the same fervour of others in the book, though for the most part they offer an interesting contrast to his more emotive elements and help to develop ideas of difference and doubt which play well throughout this personal, challenging and experienced read.

Philip, Andrew, The Ambulance Box (London: Salt Publishing, 2009).

Purchase here: http://www.saltpublishing.com/books/smp/9781844714919.htm

1/7/2011

Russell Jones

Round Robin for Rascals

2011-06-27T10:03:00.000-07:00

Have you got children? How very dare you! No doubt they'll be running about causing havoc in the streets as you sit here idly tap tapping at your Microtoff Ap-full Bambino-pod. Just don't have any more, okay?

Well anyway because I love children so much I've been working on a round-robin sound poem for them to spew from their stupid little stupid smiley mouths.

The idea is that one group starts to read the poem and as they move to the next set of words another group begins to read the poem, and so on (depending on how many groups of mini-yous you have locked away). Something like this:

Evil minion group 1: buzz buzz buzz buzz buzz buzz buzz buzz
Evil minion group 2: silence

Evil minion group 1: busy busy busy busy busy busy busy busy
Evil minion group 2: buzz buzz buzz buzz buzz buzz buzz buzz

The idea is it creates a hive of noise, a little like bees. The more of them the better I suppose: more honey.

Click the picture to make it massive

Russell Jones

Shore Poets - 26 June 2011

2011-06-20T09:05:00.000-07:00

I'll be reading alongside poets Jane McKie and Martin McIntyre, with music from Blue Flint.

26 June, 7:45pm - 10:15pm

The Wee Red Bar
Edinburgh College of Art
74 Lauriston Place
Edinburgh EH3 9DF

Day 7: Re-entry

2011-06-20T09:00:00.002-07:00

Day 6: Whale

2011-06-20T09:00:00.000-07:00

Day 5: The Illusionist

2011-06-18T03:44:00.000-07:00

This is one of my favourite poems from my "Barracuda" collection

Russell Jones

Day 4: A Poem for Jordan

2011-06-18T03:34:00.000-07:00

Okay so I missed a day. Sue me. No, go on, see just how little money you'll get.

It was Jordan Nielson's birthday yesterday so this poem, which I wrote for her when she left Scotland and headed back for Americaland, seems suitable. You can find out more about Jordan and her shenanigans in kid's lit here: http://www.therustykey.com/Welcome.html

Russell Jones

Day 3: Chromosome Medley

2011-06-16T04:31:00.000-07:00

This is the poem which won 3rd place in the Genomics Forum Poetry Competition. Click it to enlarge and then use the magnifying glass that appears to get a good old look-see, you kinky git.

Russell Jones

Day 2: Down on the Beach

2011-06-15T15:34:00.000-07:00

Russell Jones

Kiss my face

2011-06-14T10:10:00.000-07:00

Could it be Christmas already? Or your birthday, perhaps? What's that? No it's nothing to do with your recent success with the alcoholic nymphomaniac at the office party or a pity gift because you're so adorably lonesome. Though you are.

For the foreseeable future (I give it a week) I'll be posting a poem a day for you to love, hate or be completely indifferent to.

The first one is inspired by a painting (above) by a rather marvelous and strange artist friend of mine, Daniel Young.

(click to ENLARGE)

Russell Jones

Shhh Wan, it's a library

2011-06-13T09:38:00.000-07:00

The AHRC-funded "Poetry Beyond Text" exhibition has kicked off at the Scottish Poetry Library. Berets and bongos are flying, the books are covered in vomit, blood and a little bit of wee.

Come along to the SPL on Wednesday 15th June to hear a menagerie of poets read their work for the "Chinese Whispers" event. The collection is formed by artists and poets who responded to one another's work through their various mediums.

There might be free wine! And fist fights! And me, drinking the maybe-free wine!

Starts at 6pm

Russell Jones

Manuscripts A-go-go

2011-05-19T02:00:00.000-07:00

Since the dawn of my poetry writing "career" I've written X to the power of X poems. Most of them are rubbish. But like a mushroom on a turd, from the crap pile emerge two decent collections of words.

I've finally put together two manuscripts of poetry which I have written (pretty much) in the past 5 years. But I've no publisher - - see where this is headed? Use yer noggin'

As a lesser form I've sent them off to a few publishing folks in the past and had some mightily fine rejections including "we love this but you're not Welsh". Never have those words hurt so much.

So if you know a publisher who's just dying for mushrooms, send them my way and you can rub my belly. A couple of FREE samples (the first is free, after that you pay...any way you can) are below, which are the poems with the same names as the collections, "Barracuda" (a kind of surreal sea-side jaunt) and "How to Kill a Blackbird" (general bird genocide).

Click to enlarge. Ohh yeh you like that...

Russell Jones

Shore Arches

2011-05-17T03:43:00.000-07:00

Where have I been? Where have YOU been? You never call any more, I'm starting to think that night we had was just a joke. And to think I loved you. I opened my heart and let you crawl in like Luke Skywalker in that ubiquitous arctic scene. You scumbag. Kiss me.

Well it's been some time since I last posted anything so here are two mind-bendingly astonishing events for you to add to your diary so your life seems a little less like natural yoghurt and a bit more like popping candy milkshake blended with cocaine and dark rum:

The Arches, Glasgow,
24 May, 7pm to infinity

Short film night Focus Left returns following its launch last year – and a highly successful youth edition at Glasgow Film Festival.

I'll be reading Edwin Morgan's science fiction poem, "In Sobieski's Shield" over Dan Warren's short film based on the poem, to live music.

Shore Poets, Lot, 4–6 Grassmarket, Edinburgh EH1 2JU

26 June, 7:45 - 10:15pm
	A night where magical poets hit you with their wands: Jane McKie The Mark Ogle Memorial Award Martin McIntyre, Russell Jones Music: Blue Flint

Russell Jones

Plod Cast

2011-04-12T02:42:00.000-07:00

Hear Ryan Van Winkle interview myself and Sophie Cooke on the Scottish Poetry Library pod cast. Do it.
http://scottishpoetrylibrary.podomatic.com/entry/2011-04-12T01_03_14-07_00

Russell Jones

Science Pestival

2011-04-08T03:52:00.000-07:00

Fat and lazy as we all are, I'm sure we'd like more time to waste shovelling corn down our gullets and fraternising with daytime crapavision.

Well, since I work in a school I get school holidays so can do exactly that. Ha! You and your stinking "real job" suck. Bet you feel really stupid now, don't you, Thicko McJob?

Sadly I seem to have filled my man hours with "things" involving "people" and "stuff". Mainly because it's International Science Festival (http://www.sciencefestival.co.uk/) time here in Edinburgh. So here is a list of things (that you won't give a pigeon foot about but) I am involved in next week:

12 April (6:30-9:30pm, if you believe it), "Desert Island Poems"
Me, Ryan Van Winkle, Harry Giles and Peggy Hughes talk about our favourite poems and poets at the Central Library boardroom, Edinburgh

13 April (6:30pm-infinity), "Genomics Forum Poetry Competition"
Myself and Sophie Cooke (who won the competition, damn her) will read our winning/runner-up (damn me) poems to the public at the Scottish Poetry Library, Edinburgh

14 April (6-7:30pm) "Nothing but the Poem (science fiction poetry)"
Lilias Fraser hosts a group discussion on sci-fi poems, of which I've been enlisted (payment in wine and Pringles) to offer my tuppence at the Scottish Poetry Library, Edinburgh

Also watch the skies (or this site) for my SPL Podcast on science fiction and science in poetry, due to be broadcast soon. It was a 30 minute interview but likelihood is my segment will be 30 seconds because I kept swearing and/or giggling like a little school girl.

Peace, wimp

Russell Jones

A Friendly Slam in the Labyrinth

2011-03-31T01:59:00.000-07:00

What do you get when you cross poetry with horse racing? Why, SLAM poetry competitions, of course!

Claire Askew, the one-woman poetry events machinatron, organised and very successfully hosted an entertaining and vibrant night of variety from Edinburgh poets. The night took on the form of a poetry SLAM, a concept in which poets compete for the attention of a crowd/judge. Usually. But “This Collection Friendly Poetry Slam”, as it had been dubbed, had more to promote than just high-octane delivery.

The format of the night worked as follows:

1) Each poet performs a 2.5 minute set (no going over, a buzzer tells you to get the hell out)

2) They are graded by all the other poets in the room based on:

· Content (marks out of 10)

· Delivery (marks out of 10)

· Overall feelings (marks out of 10)

3) Scores are collected, totted up, and those with the least points are brandished and banished

4) Repeat the process with fewer poets until one emerges as the overlord of everything versifiable

The Winner of the evening was Young Dawkins who, we were reminded, is the Scottish Poetry Slam Champion of 2011. And it was easy to see why he had earned the title. Dawkins performed a passionate and personal set, combining a witty American charm with solid poems. He won by a fair distance though there were notable pieces worth much greater praise than they received through the voting system. As with any reading of this kind, humour tended to get the greatest reaction, sometimes leaving more potent and potentially better poetry in its laughing gas. As such those who opted for a more serious issue or tone in the first heat quickly found themselves sat in the sin bin for their attempts. One such casualty was Andrew Phillips, whose calibre was shockingly overlooked. I, of course, took the easy “funny man” route and whored myself out with gags and meaningless tripe to score poetry points and lessen my worth as a human being.

The night was an enjoyable one, though, holding a friendly atmosphere and quick pace that kept things interesting. If you didn’t like a poet you only had to put up with them for 2.5 minutes, much like my love life. Ho. Ho. Ho. Ahahaaha. Ergh. “This Collection Friendly Poetry Slam” was thankfully (for me, at least) low on the “rap” style I’d become accustomed to in poetry SLAM scenes (see the poem posted below which details my thoughts on this kind of reading “style”. It was also the first poem I read on the night), hopefully inducing the birth of a beautiful poetry baby which casts away an emphasis on the quality of performance and emphasises the importance of meaningful words being said in a meaningful way. Come here, precious poetry babe, and suck on daddy’s milkless, putrid teat.

All in all an enjoyable evening of energy and poetry. Each finalist (Winner, Young Dawkins, 2nd place Stephen Welsh, 3rd Chris Lindores, also notably, in close 4th place, Colin McGuire) deserved their place and are no doubt poets worth watching out for in the future. "This Collection Friendly Poetry Slam" had the usual (and potentially unavoidable) temptations of gags over graft, even some rapping at times, but offered a new, refreshing direction for slamming in the city.

(I came 8th)

Russell Jones

Wham. Bam. Poetry Slam.

2011-03-24T05:08:00.000-07:00

I have a strong disliking for poetry slams. They're up there with child abuse and mass murder. Well, maybe slightly below them. Slightly.

If you don't know what a "poetry slam" is and you're a complete bastard like me then you've had a lucky escape from this particular potent art form. Until now: it's a competitive form of poetry where people frequently "rap" their words to hide their emptiness.

Like Batman ("To defeat fear you must become fear"), I aim to defeat this evil by infiltrating it and corroding it from the inside. As such I have agreed to take part in a poetry slam organised by poetic pie-poker Claire Askew. The line up actually has a number of very decent poets who I'm hoping have a similar regime. They can be my Robins.

Details are:

March 30 · 7:00pm - 10:30pm

Location	The Banshee Labyrinth Niddry Street Edinburgh Scotland GB Europe The World The Milky Way The vacuum of my soul

http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=154669214593910

If you come and vote for me then you too can have a part in saving Gothburgh from total annihilation.

Russell Jones

Shut me - it's a Morgan fest!

2011-02-15T05:05:00.000-08:00

Due to the various encroaching deadlines in my life (including my death) I vowed to only give one lecture/talk/paper/babble crapmajig this year. Turns out I've agreed to give 4. Ooops.

So here they are in chronological order, for your amusement. Do come along if you feel so inclined. Offerings, bribes and human sacrifices are gratefully accepted:

17 February 2011 (9am-4:30pm)
"Planet Wave: A Starry Introduction to The Science Fiction Poetry of Edwin Morgan"
EUSA Postgraduate interdisciplinary conference
Teviot Row House, Edinburgh University
http://www.eusa.ed.ac.uk/postgraduateconference/

23 February 2011 (5pm-6pm)
"Virtual and Other Realities: Parallel Worlds and Parallel Lives in Edwin Morgan's Science Fiction Poetry"
Edinburgh University Literature Department, Work in Progress Papers
2nd floor, 18 Buccleuch Place, Edinburgh University
http://www.englit.ed.ac.uk/postgraduate/PhDResearch.htm

8-10 April 2011

"Science Fiction, Science Fact and Representing Reality in the Poetry of Edwin Morgan"

British Society for Literatures and Sciences 6th Annual Conference
Homerton College, Cambridge
http://www.bsls.ac.uk/events/bsls-2011-conference/

12 April 2011 (from 6:30pm)

"Desert Island Poems" - Ryan Van Winkle, Harry Giles and me talking about poems and poets
Boardroom, Central Library, Edinburgh

13 April 2011 (from 6:30pm)

Winners of the Genomics Poetry Competition (including myself, I assume) reading their work
Scottish Poetry Library, Edinburgh

Russell Jones

New Scientist on Genomics

2011-01-31T05:43:00.000-08:00

Kelley Swain's articulate article on the Genomics Forum Poetry Competition results, for which I got third place. Read it here!
http://www.newscientist.com/blogs/culturelab/2011/01/genomic-poetry.html

Russell Jones

No competition

2011-01-30T12:21:00.000-08:00

A little while ago I wrote an article on winning poetry competitions for Mairi Sharratt's blog, A Lump In the Throat.

It got crap reviews so I thought I'd share it with you! Enjoy

http://alumpinthethroat.wordpress.com/2010/12/21/enough-with-scratch-cards-how-to-enter-and-win-poetry-competitions/#comments

Russell Jones

Eargh, you stink!

2011-01-29T19:12:00.000-08:00

Ever wonder why you stink so much? I mean, you wash, right? You use sanitary products. And yet you still reek of failure, self loathing and -worst of all- humanity.

Well maybe it's in your genes. There have been many objections to genetic selection throughout history, though more recently against those freakish (wo)men in white coats who help you recover from cancer but "ought not play god".

Well pah. Pish and pith posh.

Genetic selection has been going on since boy met girl, since dinosaur ate falafel. You're probably selecting which gene carriers won't make it to conception right now, on your filthy pleasure-flannel. Wash out yer eyes! Filth.

And this be the premise of my "3rd place" poem written for the Genomics Forum's poetry competition, which held the theme of "Improving the Human".

The winning and runner up poems can be read on this site: http://www.genomicsnetwork.ac.uk/forum/news/title,24368,en.html

and the judges' report here
(http://www.genomicsnetwork.ac.uk/media/judges_report.pdf) - so far as I can tell they're a pretty good bunch.

Russell Jones

Fear of The Main Land

2011-01-25T09:36:00.000-08:00

A little sonnet of mine has appeared, fairy-like, on Euonia (a site whose name makes me think they're against banana straightening)

Oh and it's Burn's Night, for a' that. Eat haggis. Retch. Eat some more.

http://eunoiareview.wordpress.com/2011/01/26/lights/

Russell Jones

A Word from the Scottish Poetry Library

2011-01-18T05:26:00.000-08:00

Synthia is 42, alone, hungry and in need of a sense of humour. Just two pounds a month could help her to open a collection of Hegley. Don't let her suffer in silence, Improve The Human.

Come along to the Scottish Poetry Library on Saturday 29th January (2-4pm) to find out about the possible connections between genomics and poetry and to hear who the winners of the Genomics Forum Poetry Competition are. Synthia will thank you.

Saturday 29 January, 2 - 4pm

Genomics Poetry Competition: Prize giving and reading

Have you ever wondered what genetics and poetry have in common? Join us to find out, as we host a reading by the winners of the ERSC Genomics and Scottish Poetry Library poetry competition.
Free | all welcome

Edinburgh

Scottish Poetry Library, 5 Crichton's Close, Canongate

Russell Jones

1000 Clicks

2010-12-28T06:10:00.000-08:00

I have come down from the dizzying heights of celebrity stardom to address you, the common folk.

Yes all the rumours you've heard in the news, the papers, magazines and movies are true: the blog has, since August 2010, had over 1000 visitors. Let us pray.

To celebrate this triumphant moment in mankind's history I will allow your mortal eyes to gaze upon a work of such gravitas and splendour that it sits atop the papier roll beside by porcelain throne. Prepare yourself for the masterpiece that is mine own work: "Pooey Monkey"

Enjoy this aesthetic treat, visit again. Now go away.

Russell Jones

Some Edwin Morgan Stuffs

2010-12-27T05:17:00.000-08:00

You may remember that the Scots Makar, Edwin Morgan, died earlier this year. A sad thing indeed, though there have been a number of quality tributes in the form of readings and publications.

One such tribute is from Swiss Lounge Productions and includes photography and poetry from:
Morgan Downie
Tracy Markey
Paul Nandy
Michael Conley
Richie McCaffrey
Russell Jones
Andrew C Ferguson
Colin Will
Lachlan Renwick

The complete item can be found here in pdf (it's a bit slow, be patient!)
http://swissloungeproductions.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/strawberries.pdf

A small tribute note of mine was also published alongside others in Steve Sneyd's (of Hilltop Press, leading expert in science fiction poetry) Data Dump pamphlet for December 2010, which should contain a review of my Last Refuge sci-fi poetry collection in the new year.

Peace, Jacobites

Russell Jones

Proof Test

2010-12-25T06:57:00.000-08:00

I tend never to drink when I write, or write when drinking (whichever starts first wins out).

But at 4am this Christmas morning I broke the taboo and pumped out a piece whilst slurring on Black Russians. Then I wrote a poem. After waking and sobering up I decided to write another -

Here's the test: which poem do you prefer? They're both first drafts, obviously, but perhaps this proof test will allow Mr Vodka to hold the pen more often...

Russell Jones

Re-entry

we were burned up on re-entry

burned up and cast out like ashes

like ashes in an instant in a flash

a flash of separation one body

one body thudding against another

against another body and we embraced

we embraced between the atoms

between the atoms and smiled stupid

stupid really as death was imminent

imminent enough and we knew it

we knew it but we smiled as the earth

the earth honed into view bold

bold and blue and devastating

devastating in one way but beautiful

beautiful as the temperature grew

grew so quickly we were vapour

vaporised in a flash one body

one body drifting through another

through another in a flash of separation

separation cast out like ashes

like ashes burned up and bought together

bought together at last in vacuum

Converse

Boys are dogs at car windows
Girls are spiced rum

Morning is position four
Night is thin shins on bed legs

Monday is the coldest month
Friday is cranberries

Hate is mustard
Love is a thumb war

Doors are a waste of central heating and therefore the whole environment
Windows are great

Television is duvets and chocolate and possibly marshmallows
Books are work

Wine is calorific, carcinogenic but preferable
Beer is cheap

Work is a nightmare
Leisure is attainable

Children are someone else’s noise box
Old age is piss

Science is convenient
Art is a room

Christmas is the 25th of December
New Year is troublesome

Parsnips are neither here nor there
Vodka is fantastic

Light is conversation
Darkness is the in fold of my wallet

Happiness is welcoming
Depression is a derelict roasting tray

The future is every colour other than orange
The past is a drawer

Confinement is marmalade
Space is a jar

You are the planet Earth

I am the last cosmonaut

Bah, Bumhug!

2010-12-23T06:22:00.000-08:00

I realise I've not written very much at all on this damnable site of late, so while you've been off dreaming of a White Christmas like a daft racist I've written a short article on the dull issue of winning poetry competitions.

I say "winning", I mean "not coming last"

Find it here: http://networkedblogs.com/c5Sqy

In the meantime, to get you in the festive spittoon, here's a little piece about the yuletide which I'd written for DanseMacabre last year. Now go away.

Christmas Fever

No wrapping but the gut
lining, no bow but the bile,
no box but the brittle bulge
of my projectile smile.

Ding dingaling and ding along.
Merry merry, very merry,
hear my Christmas song!

No manger but the rough
sleep, no advent but the wheeze,
no sugar but the colon’s
furious chocolate sneeze.

Ding dingaling and ding along.
Merry merry, very merry,
hear my Christmas song!

No fire glow but the fever
sweat, no chestnut but the phlegm,
no stuffing but the mucous balls:
it must be Christmas again.

Russell Jones

Blog at the same time!

2010-11-27T05:10:00.000-08:00

Mairi Sharratt leads another blogging project but this time it's ruddy international!

Yep moaners (poets) from "AROUND THE GLOBE" are all blogging at the same time, on the theme of "A Broken Conversation"

My effort is posted below (a little late, I was sleeping...), see the other bloggers' work on their sites:
Roger Santiváñez
Cisco Bellavista
Jesús Ge Ana Pérez
Cañamares Felipe
Zapico Martaerre
(Marta R. Sobrecueva)
JoAnne McKay
Rachel Fox
Alastair Cook
Scottish Poetry Library
(and Mairi: http://networkedblogs.com/b5Jkr)

The Bang

Alice: Pretty naked, pretty fast. For the sake of staying positive, call me Alice.

Atlas: And me, Atlas.

Alice: Pleased to meet you at last. So this is magnetism. Can I ask -?

Atlas: Oh, do.

Alice: What are we doing here?

Atlas: You shouldn’t assume –

Alice: You’re right of course.

Atlas: We’re on course

Alice: For what?

Atlas: The truth is in the name. Not Hadron, but Collider. We’re set for, done for.

Alice: But we’ve this time at least.

Atlas: Yes but be quick about it.

Alice: Can we kiss?

Atlas: We can collide.

Alice: That doesn’t sound entirely romantic –

Atlas: ah but there’s romance in frantic creation and creation is what I’m all about

Alice: Has it always been? You seem something of an opportunist

Atlas: I am.

Alice: I suppose great times –

Atlas: Require great measures. Come closer, my sweet Alice.

Alice: I’m not sure I’ve anything for you.

Atlas: I adore you.

Alice: Well perhaps –

Atlas: Perhaps -

Alice: Perhaps.

2010-11-19T04:40:00.000-08:00

Big Brother is under your bed thinking bad things

2010-11-02T16:29:00.000-07:00

There's a completely genius website that analyses the language of another website and tells you various things about its author.

Obviously I tried it on my own blog.

Turns out I'm a 50 year old woman who is "happy".

I wish.

Try it on your own favourite site:

http://urlai.com/url/poetrusselljones.blogspot.com

Russell Jones

Half a Millennium of Moronics

2010-10-28T12:15:00.000-07:00

In August 2010, whilst lying in the rank sweat of my ensemed bed, stroking the corpse of my social life and giggling maniacally, I committed a most heinous act: I added a "hit counter" to my blog...

Hit me, go on. Oh yeh. Yeh right in the face, go on. Harder.

Since that empty test of self worth this site has somehow clocked up over 500 visits, which means that there are at least a few people with more time and (possibly) less of a life than me out there in Interenetoland. Thanks mum!

This deserves celebration. Or castration. But let's celebrate first. Have a drink on me. No, really, go on, whatever you like, go and get it. Go on, seriously.

Ergh.

Well here's a poem about babies on the bus to make you feel warm and fuzzy. Go away.

Russell Jones

EXCLUSIVE: Jones wins money, buys chair, wipes arse

2010-10-23T05:00:00.000-07:00

I like money, I do. It pays for my various addictions. And whores will have their trinkets. So it was nice to find out that The Writer's Bureau wanted to give me some pennies for winning 3rd place in their poetry competition. I have since spent them on a chair, berry vodka and arse paper because I'm that damn exciting.

The poem is below, and this in-depth analysis was made of it: "This is highly original, beautifully crafted and resonant."

Crossing Over

Remember how we crossed the bay
in that little wreck we found,
five-past-midnight, after drinking
on the shingle? We rowed
to the lighthouse you said was haunted.

I forget how long it took,
what we said or didn't say.
The fear of opening a graveyard
had shrunk or evaded me

but I kept the bruises from when you fingered

my arm like a crucifix

when we headed upstairs. Everything

was silhouette
as we watched the hillsides sleep on the horizon.

Remind me: did we try to relight
the dead and search the ocean?
Did we name the shades of darkness
because of our intoxication?

We drew particles of the night into our lungs
and spirits made it through.
You switched on your torch and rotated
so that somewhere,
between worlds, we’d shine our beacons.

Russell Jones

Please Daddy, No! EDITED VERSION

2010-10-07T10:10:00.000-07:00

Today was National Poetry Day and as such I inflicted poetry on the young at Wester Hailes Education Centre.

Actually they chugged it down and asked for seconds. They love it.

You might not expect kids to take kindly to a posh Englishman in a suit telling them about intergalactic stasis travel, babies licking bus windows or dead birds, mightn't you? Well that's because you're a monster and they're lovely.

What struck me was how much they enjoy sound. The younger ones especially. Their favourite of mine is a concrete poem called "star", which they demanded I read at least twice per class. I had to regurgitate the damned thing about 14 times at high speed.

And adults love that one too.

So what am I saying? Nothing really, just that people like sound. Big discovery, huh? Yeh that's right, yeh.

Try reading the concrete poem "star" for yourself, the faster the better. Or don't. See if I care

(I care)

Russell Jones

Ever read a book? Listened to a song?

2010-09-26T10:49:00.000-07:00

The beard with a man attached, known as Ryan Van Winkle, asks whether you've ever been inspired by a song. Well, have you? HAVE YOU?

Of course you have, everybody has. But not everybody has written something brilliant afterwards.

Well now's your chance, you furry biped.

Forest Publications is looking for essays, stories and poems inspired by or about music. So go listen to a song and write something "good"

http://ryanvanwinkle.com/call-for-submissions-this-next-one-goes-out-to/

Russell Jones

Goodbye Eddie

2010-08-19T09:25:00.000-07:00

The sad news has arrived that Edwin Morgan, the Scots Makar, died today, of pneumonia, aged 90.

I only met Eddie once but he seemed such a genuine and warm guy who had time for anyone. His work has been an inspiration to people all over the world and he has shaped Scottish poetry for generations past and will for many years to come. On a personal level, Morgan and his work are a considerable part of my life. Not only has his poetry inspired my own poetry but I have dedicated years of my life to researching his work as part of my PhD. I know he's been just as important and indeed more-so for many more people out there.

He will be sorely missed but in true Morgan style I think it's important to look at all the great optimism he had in life and to keep it going.

"It's hard to go, let's go"

Knowing he's been seriously ill for some time, I'd written a tribute poem (if I can call it that) about the impact this news would have, as pasted below.

Bye bye Eddie

Big fat sell out

2010-08-12T04:53:00.000-07:00

Having stolen the last few copies of my chapbook, The Last Refuge, from a local charity and sold them to unsuspecting likers of poetry, the first edition is officially a SELL OUT.

If you don't have a copy then you probably have some kind of mental disorder and your life is definitely ruined. Perhaps you can use it as testimony for your insanity plea when you inevitably end up in court on drunk and disorderly and/or public nudity charges.

Perhaps the publishers will print another edition, you may yet have something worth living for. Do not give up hope whilst you're sat shivering in a pool of your own excrement.

In other news: icecream is nice, have you tried it?

Russell Jones

Me hearties - more pirate blethers

2010-08-01T05:43:00.000-07:00

NEW
I've been asked back to Captains Bar for one last reading on 21st August. Come sit on my lap.

----

Scrub my palms with a rusty razor, batter the matches and prepare the parrot for the high breeze, I'm giving two readings at Captains bar, including the children's favourite, "Farmers and Pirates"

If you're not a lollylagging wang lugger then head on over and hear me call

8th and 9th of August

Captains Bar, 4 South College Street, Edinburgh, EH8 9AA, www.CaptainsEdinburgh.webs.com

Russell Jones

Blog Project

2010-07-16T05:54:00.000-07:00

Cast your mind back to your earliest memory. Is it my previous post about a blogging project between a bunch of desperado poets? If not then your life obviously has too many "meaningful experiences" in it and must be extinguished. I suggest bleach.

Anyway the time has come to actually make the post. Here's how it works:

1) The director of the project sends all the poets the same word. The word was "swear"

2) The poets quit their day time jobs in pursuit of the word, excluding their loved ones, not washing, shivering in the darkness. So nothing different to usual, other than this...

3) The poets write something based on....the word!

True genius. Well the picture above is my attempt, and a ruddy good one it is too. If you have any inkling of aesthetics or intellect then you'll surely love it. Tell your mum about it before I do.

I also wrote a more conventional sort of thing after seeing a burger producer claiming that its edible atrocities were the "f*cKING best" or something equally subtle. It's pasted below.

As a nod to the fellow wordwhores involved, there are also links to each of their blogs. They're all meant to have posted by 10am today (Saturday 17th August)

(PS: the dots aren't meant to be in this poem but I can't fathom how to put the gap in-between the sections, so imagine they're invisible with your imagination skills)

Obscene Publications

sh*t ..............................as in the toilet lid

c*nt ..............................as in for money

w*nk ............................as in unsophisticated flirtation

who*e ..........................as in the complete package

p*ss ..............................as in salt ‘n’ vinegar

fu*k ..............................as in hip gyration to beats

co*k .............................as in sausage factory

b*tch ............................as in femme

b*oody .........................as in messy family planning

c*ap .............................as in sore lips

tw*t ............................as in an oaf

sl*t ..............................as in looking through a narrow gap

And the list of poets:

Mairi Sharratt - A lump in the Throat
http://www.alumpinthethroat.wordpress.com

Caroline Mary Crew - Flotsam
http://www.carolinemarycrew.wordpress.com

Colin Will - Sunny Dunny
http://sunnydunny.wordpress.com/

Andrew Philip - Tonguefire
http://tonguefire.wordpress.com/tonguefire/

Sally Evans - desktopsallye
http://www.desktopsallye.com/page16.htm

Kevin Cadwallender - Cadwallender
http://cadwallenderk.blogspot.com/

Claire Askew - One Nights Stanzas
http://www.onenightstanzas.com/

Russell Jones - Russell Jones
http://www.poetrusselljones.blogspot.com

Alastair Cook - Written in my hand
http://www.alastaircook.blogspot.com/

Martaerre Sobrecueva - de la poesia y otras disciplinas en palabras
http://miraletras.blogspot.com/

Tony Williams - Tony Williams's Poetry Blog
http://aye-lass.blogspot.com/

Russell Jones

All blogged up

2010-07-04T06:01:00.000-07:00

Blogging is an Eden for the socially inept / self-obsessed and that is why poets love to blog. In fact poets love blogging so much that 9/10 of them admitted they would rather drown a bag of puppies than lose their precious blog. A big bag.

Now imagine the possible carnage of a lot of poets all competing for Me Space on a shared blog. You can't, can you? Well now you don't have to!

Mairi Sharratt, an Edinburgh-based poet, has hatched a child-beatingly-evil and devious plot to have poets all write their thoughts and feelings about a chosen issue at once. Here is a short post about it:http://alumpinthethroat.wordpress.com/2010/07/01/literary-salons-anon-7-and-simultaneous-blogging/

The project includes such poetic talent as:

Sally Evans

http://www.desktopsallye.com/page16.htm

Kevin Cadwallender

(the man has no blog...and he calls himself a poet, pah!)

Alastair Cook

www.alastaircook.blogspot.com

Claire Askew

http://www.onenightstanzas.com/

And, no doubt, many others. Of course, being the miserable self-gratifying eye gouge that I am, I'll also be taking part.

Spish and tittle.

Russell Jones

Alice in Blunderland

2010-06-27T12:17:00.001-07:00

I read Alice in Wonderland (and Through the Looking Glass) recently, after my rancid experience with Mr Depp and co., and thought it was pish-inspiringly good. And so I wrote an article on it, which you can find on therustykey:

http://therustykey.com/WereAllMadHere.html

suck it and see, dumpfreeze

Russell Jones

Baby Botherer

2010-06-08T13:50:00.000-07:00

If the authorities allow me to spawn I shall name my darlings something that will really hinder them in attaining happiness in their lives. "Abomination" or "Gout", perhaps.

And here are some recent attempts at a brand new (aka: done before) poetic form which I have named "physics motion poetry".

The name even makes me want to hurt myself so you're not alone.

Arsey and pretentious it probably is but the theory is this: Firstly the software used to create it is a physical properties simulator. You mix poo with fans, you get poo on the wall. Mix water with poo, you get wet poo. There's no "poo" option but there ought to be. Secondly it moves, thus the motion part. Lastly I'm calling it poetry and you can't argue with me so nah nah nah naaah nah.

Alternative name: moving poo words

Enjoy or don't.

http://megaswf.com/view/b0fd3773fa721b8d18f5527328eb99ee.html

gymnast

http://megaswf.com/view/6ffde033561bfbc3a5ee6a9fcbb502ac.html

Russell Jones

Code Poetry

2010-06-06T10:11:00.000-07:00

Whilst wasting some of my "life" on the "internet" I happened to find out about a little known and very short lived poetic movement. It has a real name but I can't remember what it is so I'll call it "code poetry". Here are some of my "attempts":

(1) Love Story

(2) Date Night (the empty box says XY beneath it, the other says XX)

(3) Representation: Final Agony, Final Victory (the empty box says XY beneath it, the other says XX)

(4) All That I Know Is That I Know Nothing

(5) Species (the bold circle says "survivalist" underneath it, the other says "species")

Russell Jones

SUISS (Scottish Universities' International Summer School)

2010-05-30T02:40:00.000-07:00

Have you a couple of thousand pounds lying about that you just can't wait to spend on one of the following?:

- class A narcotics

- whores and trinkets

- Scottish literature summer schools

If you've not decided which enticing expenditure to go for, let me help you....DRUGS. But if you're tiring of the hashish (or opium if you're feeling particularly 14th century Ottoman) and temptations of the flesh are getting a bit "old hat" then you might want to consider the SUISS, which is being held in Edinburgh this year.

And as an extra special treat I will personally be altering your mind as a Scottish Literature tutor this year. And think yourself lucky, you swine gobbler, because I might have been going to China-land instead of sitting in a dark room with you and several other foreigners.

There are other courses too, like creative writing and modernism, but they're milk and vinegar along side the behemoth of greatness which is Scottish Literature.

And here is the reading list of brilliance and intrigue:

Lewis Grassic Gibbon, Sunset Song
Muriel Spark, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie and The Driver's Seat
John McGrath, The Cheviot, the Stag and the Black, Black Oil
Gregory Burke, Black Watch
James Kelman, The Burn
Alasdair Gray, Poor Things
A.L. Kennedy, What Becomes
Twentieth Century Scottish Poetry (Douglas Dunn ed.)

You can book your place or just look at pretty pictures here:

http://www.summer-school.hss.ed.ac.uk/suiss/index.html

Russell Jones

Shore Poets

2010-05-30T02:32:00.001-07:00

Scottish scallywags, Shore Poets, have asked me to read as their "new reader" on Sunday 26th June at The Lot (4/6 Grassmarket, Edinburgh, EH1 2JT).

It starts at 7:45pm.

You might be busy that eve pottering about in the garden, baking cakes or dogging. But if you're not, come find us and stop hanging out in parks at night.

See them here:

http://www.shorepoets.org.uk/

Russell Jones

Conference Nonsense

2010-05-19T00:57:00.000-07:00

If life has taught me anything it's that life is ultimately futile and barren. With some nice bits. And I keep this in mind whenever I apply for nonsense activities to make life pass along, such as jobs or funding. The theory goes as follows: "Apply for something (I.e.: jobs and funding, you see the pattern) with the belief that you will most likely fail, you miserable failure. If you happen to be successful then it's a bonus"

With this theory in mind I applied to 5 conferences in the hope that one would stick. However, all five did, so here's the list of conferences for you not to attend:

(1) British Society of Literature and Science, Northumbria University (Newcastle), 8-10, April 2010

I talked about "A Home in Space: Teleportation and Space Exploration in Edwin Morgan's Science Fiction Poetry" and you missed it, you fool.

(2) Broken Images and Fractured Words, Lancaster University (Lancaster), 12 June 2010

I will moan on about "Off Concrete Stars: Edwin Morgan, Science Fiction and Concrete Poetry"

(3) Poetry and Voice, Chichester University (West Sussex), 25-27 June 2010

I will gripe on about "What I Love About Poetry is its Ion Engine: Interactions in Science and Poetry" and then continue to spread my hatred through a reading from my book, "The Last Refuge"

(4) What Happens Now: 21st Century Writing in English, Lincoln University (Lincoln), 9-12 July

I will verbally assault the rabble about "Happy Robots: Technologies and Utopias in Edwin Morgan's Science Fiction Poetry"

(5) British and Irish Contemporary Poetry Conference, Queens University (Belfast), 15-17 September 2010

I will commit social sepiku and general genocide as I vomit words about "Scottish Experimentalism: The Roles of Science and Experiment in Edwin Morgan’s Science Fiction Poetry"

If you've a taste for cream and a pang for poetry then crack open the credit cards, strap on your colostomy satchel and join me for a tantalising trip down conference lane!

Russell Jones

Cleave me alone!

2010-04-27T09:14:00.000-07:00

Clean my pants and call me Randy, "Cleaves" (a prismatically-covered little interntational poetry book series) have published 4 of my poems including a concrete flower and a poem about a worm which can thrive in extreme underwater heat.

Check it out and buy it here:

http://cleavesjournal.com/issue2/scotland/scotland.htm

If you don't then everyone hates you. Even your mother. Especially your mother.

Russell Jones

Willy Wonka's Little Secret

2010-04-27T09:11:00.001-07:00

Top Children's Lit web site "The Rusty Key" has published a short article of mine on Roald Dahl. If you like masochistic candy producers and a good old child beating then read it!

Find the article here:

http://www.therustykey.com/MarvellousMedicine.html

Russell Jones

Concrete Poetry

2010-03-20T03:34:00.000-07:00

Concrete poetry is a difficult beastie to describe.

But I'll try.

It's poetry which is concerned with layout, appearance of words, space, etc., perhaps somewhat more than the meaning of the words. It usually has very few different words in it.

That's a terrible description.

But it's all you're getting, scumbag.

Here are a couple of examples of my own concrete poetry. Enjoy them or perish.

Russell Jones

DO ME

2010-03-20T03:22:00.000-07:00

I realised just this morning as the vodka-fog lifted and I prepared my armpits for a day at the zoo that I haven't posted any poetry on this site for quite some time.

As a site presumably 1/3 about poetry, this seems odd.

I also realised that I've never put any of my portraits up, so there's one above for all to worship. Below is a poem inspired by a quote from Edwin Morgan's poem, "Second Life". It's unusually and obviously theoretical. DO AS I SAY AND BELIEVE WHAT I THINK. The end.

Is it true that we become alive
not once, but many times? - Edwin Morgan

As your body proves its shift
in a dust of hair, a grain of skin,
in the once-only visitation
to the coffin
you might be new,
not human, not sleek velvet lining,
not dirt and footsteps
on your eternal lawn
but a bright amalgamation.

Before that, however you went:
part haemorrhage, part lung disease,
part broken heart, part syringe;
that contract, the final musics of hearing,
those last minute considerations,
the ultimate reminisce of brain activity
leave you altered.

How people speak about you –
how you speak about you –
how you are known –
are sands and metal filings,
separate but inseparable.

On the way to school
your soul bends.
On the road to work
your head bends.
On love you bend.

Awhile since you were conceived
a life worth living, since cock and heat:
a playground song, rasped knuckles,
conkers cracked, a gentle touch,
a stark word or kind hush -
the repeatedly repeated and the new
are your jigsaw on the carpet.

Quick dash – spermatozoa quick, hormonal quick,
love quick - chances are you’ll be one
in six hundred million (though half decided);
this is where life ends and begins,
where we join and become alive
not once, but many times.

Russell Jones

Visual Prowess

2010-03-15T13:06:00.000-07:00

Imagine, if you can, me, bent double, trousers down, teeth gritted, hands clasped pathetically and desperately on a stair banister as I attempt to push fecal gerbils from my raw, unwashed rectum, whining like a pig in a sausage factory...

Now stop. I said STOP.

Imagine, if you can, Edinburgh University's majestic McEwan's Hall in all its finery, the sunlight pouring rainbows through its high stain windows, the pleasant tweet of poets' voices flying through the air, a sense of peace, excitement (I said excitement, not excrement) and ultimate inner fulfilment.

One or more of these will be happening on Thursday Friday 26th March between 7 and 9pm. Details of the latter possible event are given below:

this collection March McEwan Hall showcase: Thursday 25th March 10am – 5pm / Friday 26th March 7pm – 9pm . FREE, all welcome.

See some of our films here: http://www.youtube.com/user/filmthiscollection

Poets who'll be reading on Friday 26th from 7-9pm are:

Tom Bristow
Christine de Luca
Hayley Shields
Russell Jones
Andrew C Fergusson
Morgan Downie
Anita John
Andy Philip
Rob A Mackenzie
Aileen Ballantyne
Jane McKie
Chris Lindores
Claire Askew

Russell Jones

Conference Frenzy!

2010-03-08T11:00:00.001-08:00

It's conference fever at Jones HQ with another one coming up in my old slightly-dull-(suicide hotspot)-but-nice town, Lancaster.

"Off Concrete Stars: Edwin Morgan, Science Fiction and Concrete Poetry"

That be the topic for discussion so if you've any passion for poetic fashions then follow me to the land of canal boats and tin whistles.

More details to come.

(yes, a completely uninsulting promo, you gimp)

Russell Jones

Lincoln Quark

2010-02-28T05:55:00.000-08:00

Lincoln will be hosting this terribly named conference, 9-12 July:

'What Happens Now: 21st Century Writing in English - thefirst decade'

and I'll be there talking about sciency poetry, science fiction robotic thingymajigs. Other (more impressive and important people) who will be there include:

Carol Ann Duffy
Will Self
Tim Crouch (performing My Arm)
Iain Sinclair
John Burnside
Don Paterson
Daljit Nagra

I like their words. Well, some of them.

If you've money to burn and a yearning for Lincolnshire goodness then pack yer bag and drink my man milk.

Russell Jones

Jah, es ist sehr gut!!

2010-02-28T05:47:00.000-08:00

German supermag, New Leaf, has a couple of my poems inside. Supa! Actually, tis rather a good read and my poems are about ghosts and bull fighting. Fellow poetry fiend, Aiko Harman, is also in attendance, naturlich! Find her here: http://aikowrites.blogspot.com/

Oh, you can buy said book here for the steal of 2 euro coins
http://www.fb10.uni-bremen.de/newleaf/about_us/about_us.php

Aufwiedersehen, meine braunbrot

Herr Russell Jones

Beam me up, Geordie

2010-02-10T07:05:00.000-08:00

Tired of the bloody misery of April? All that stigmata can be a right downer and, hey, aren't you worried about looking a bit chunky after your twelvth Kinder surprise?

Worry not, there's a cure...in the form of a British Society for Literature and Science conference! Rejoice!

I'll be talking on "A Home in Space: Teleportation and Space Exploration in the Science Fiction Poetry of Edwin Morgan" at Northumbria University, Newcastle, some time, some day between 8th and 11th of April.

The mystery only adds to the intrigue. You love it you conference tart.

Why not visit the super exciting website and book your place RIGHT NOW?

http://www.bsls.ac.uk/?page_id=714

Russell Jones

Top Secret OR ELSE

2010-02-05T01:41:00.000-08:00

Last night, at the Scottish Poetry Library, I was introduced to some random art. Sandwich containers filled with soil, knitted femidoms and such. The kind of art you love, you freak.

The task is to choose a piece of randomness and use it as inspiration for a poem which will then be commented on by artists. Then we'll all be put in a box of monkeys and covered with electrodes and gummy bears.

Thing is, I'm not allowed to talk to anyone about it because it ruins the project. Yes, RUINS it. As no-one but lonely alcoholics and my dead eyes read my blog I feel it may be safe to say as much as I have - but if the word gets out I'm coming after you.

Russell Jones

Science and Poetry at the SPL

2010-01-10T13:08:00.001-08:00

Wednesday 13th January, 5:30pm, Scottish Poetry Library (Edinburgh)

I'll be talking about sciency things and poemy things to the general publik. You must attend, you just must! Other great people such as SF writer Ken McLeod will be there if you hate me.

Russell Jones

Teviot Try-out

2010-01-07T12:22:00.000-08:00

It's been a while, you and I. Give me those mattress eyes, cork open that cheap Sardinian Chardonney and keep your socks on -

I'm reading at the Teviot Bar, Edinburgh on 18th January 2009. I think there's a feminist theme but I'll probably avoid that and read my usual hateful rants. If you'd like to jeer do come along from 7pm.

I hit her because I love her.

Russell Jones

Boo Hiss It's Chrispish

2009-12-03T07:02:00.000-08:00

Though I generally hate religion with all my metaphoric soul, I am willing to sell into its lies for money and/or fame. With that in mind here are some Christmas-based poems to 'celebrate' this most irritating of times, which I wrote for a couple of Christmas-themed competitions. Note the lack of any kind of enjoyment or religious aspect, do. Bah, humbug.

Decoration

A real Spruce or Pine in the living room

and one star shines brightest on the foreground

of a galaxy. Twelve angels turn around,

planetarily on familiar hooks. Soon

we will ask for the long flash of tinsel,

the charge of faeries, the wire of beads to dress

its splinters for electricity. Guess

work will be our creation, we will all

attempt to unravel the mysteries

of baubles, challenge gravity’s hand

and set the canes straight. Everything we planned

is not everything that happens. We will tease

the childish Decembers of perfection,

then stand back and quieten for reflection.

Christmas Fever

No wrapping but the gut
lining, no bow but the bile,
no box but the brittle bulge
of my projectile smile.

Ding dingaling and ding along.
Merry merry, very merry,
hear my Christmas song!

No manger but the rough
sleep, no advent but the wheeze,
no sugar but the colon’s
furious chocolate sneeze.

Ding dingaling and ding along.
Merry merry, very merry,
hear my Christmas song!

No fire glow but the fever
sweat, no chestnut but the phlegm,
no stuffing but the mucous balls:
it must be Christmas again.

Russell Jones Poet
Poet Russell Jones
russelljonespoet
poetrusselljones
jonesbloodyjones
yesiamtryingtogetmoregooglehits

Happy Robots

2009-11-21T07:16:00.000-08:00

Wednesday 25th November, 5pm, I'll be giving a talk at Edinburgh University (18 Buccleuch Place, 1st floor). It's got rhinos, a song, comics and a computer reading a poem. Do come!

Happy Robots: Technologies and Utopias in Edwin Morgan’s SFP

Ever hopeful, Edwin Morgan’s Science Fiction Poems explore humanity’s ability to progress and survive through its understanding of science and technology. Morgan utilises everything that Sci-fi can throw at us, from talking particles to a Christmas card-writing computer, in order to explore human nature and our hopes for the future. Pessimistic critics might call his optimism naïve, but Morgan’s confidence in the potential of the human race is as infectious as a nanovirus. Put on your space boots, take a good lung full of O2 and empty your colostomy bag as we venture in to Morgan’s utopias, digesting and exploring the concept that science is not only progressive but utterly imperative for the survival of our species.

Russell Jones

Aesthetica Therapy

2009-10-30T02:34:00.000-07:00

Hot bananas! One of my poems has been short listed for "International Aesthetica Creative Works Competition".

Amongst the misery of your pitiful existence I suggest you buy a copy of the magazine/book (you can get a hard copy, it's easier to wipe away your ugly loner tears from the cover) to bring about a tiny ray of less-misery.

Though it won't find you a girlfriend, a better job or physical prowess, it does have pretty pictures and words in it. Check it out here:
www.aestheticamagazine.com

Release date is 1 December 2009, available in Borders or from the Aesthetica website.

Die or die trying.

Russell Jones

Bleergh

2009-10-29T11:16:00.000-07:00

Here me vomit at 'The Elvis Shakespeare' on Leith Walk, Edinburgh, this Sunday. Sick off is 2pm.

It's a book launch, by the by. Here's a review of the book:

http://www.unpeeled.net/albums.html

Russell Jones

Extremophiles

2009-10-21T03:14:00.000-07:00

"How do you get youw bwilliant ideas, mister?" asks little Timmy

"I take them from the souls of children, Timmy"

It's a common question, one which my mum asks me at least three times a year. Truth is I've very little imagination left since I had to do adult things like defrost fridge freezers or get excited about potato mashers.

I come up with a theme and then try out different forms or phrases. That's my way. Past themes have included:

- Fish

- Alcohol

- Children

- Water

- Science Fiction

Put them in to a number generating machine and you'll work out my sadistic plan.

My current project is to write a stupid number of sonnets based on "extremophiles". They're not super paedos, they're organisms which thrive in extreme situations, like emperor penguins stupidly breeding in Antarctic winters.

If life can exist under ice, in volcanos, in isolated caves etc., could it exist in the vacuum of space? In the centre of the sun? In a word or an idea? Even in my girlfriend's filthy bedroom?

And that's what I'm doing. Here's the first one free, each one after that will cost you:

Russell Jones

Publicating Me

2009-10-21T02:58:00.000-07:00

read my poems readmypoems ReadMyPoems READMYCOCKINGPOEMS

This is what goes through every poet's head. Well, except those poets who write things and then lock them away in secret drawers beneath the microwave.

I keep a list. A dark and secret list of foul things I'd like to do to members of the general public. You can't see that one, but I also keep a list of my past publications so I can stalk myself and weep whilst sitting in a pile of my own excrement.

As you'll no doubt notice, being a smart bastard, the list is a little shady to begin with. I've also not bothered with some useful information such as ISBN numbers, so you'll just have to trust me that it's a real list and then send me that £20 you owe me.

THE LIST (oldest to most recent)

crap Love/Romance book
BBC Get Writing Anthology 2005

other crap book

manchester arts mag

sentinal poetry magazine, may 05

the voice (multiple)

the drum (multiple)

Jabberwocky x2 (winter, spring)

golden hour book

masters V book

ducts.org

Read This, issues 5/9
writer's dock children's book

Platform Magazine Nottingham (travel writing: California)
Earth Love (issue 29, nov 2008)
Equinox (sep 08 or mar 09)
First time Magazine (issue 55, 56 – march 2009?)
Fire (issue 32, winter 09/10)
Scintilla 13 (spring 2009)
Salopoet (december 2008, june 09)
Frogmore Papers (iss 74, September 09)
This Collection (film project 2009)
Carillon magazine (23, march 09, issue 24 june 09)
Southbank centre online http://www.poetrymagazines.org.uk/ (equinox electronic form) (2009)
‘the last refuge’ – my chap book, aug 09
Golden hour 2 – sep 09
Aesthetica magazine – dec 09?

Russell Jones

Shhhh...Talking in the Library

2009-10-09T10:59:00.000-07:00

A fine chap named Ken McLeod has invited me to speak about the interactions of Science and Poetry at the Scottish Poetry Library on Wednesday 13th January 2010 at 5:30pm.

I want you there, you sexy beast.

Check out Ken's current projects on science and society here:

http://kenmacleod.blogspot.com/2009/07/human-genre-project.html

Russell Jones

Smart Ickle Art Ickle

2009-10-09T10:48:00.000-07:00

A month or so ago I wrote a tremendously nonsensical (but fun) article about voices in Science Fiction Poetry which talked about dressing dogs in costumes, wearing colostomy bags and boiling pig snouts in black sauce. As academic journals appear to have a strong distaste for such things, it now exists as something rather different but still moderately interesting and will be published in an upcoming academic thingymajig for Edinburgh University's literature journal, "Forum".

If you enjoy ripping the beating heart out of newborn puppies, you might enjoy this little romp too.

The link available when it's available, calm down! Until then why not look at other things "Forum" likes to talk about:

http://forum.llc.ed.ac.uk/

Russell Jones

Books

2009-10-09T10:43:00.001-07:00

There's finally an ad for my chapbook, "The last Refuge" on the internet! Golly gosh. The layout of the sample poem is a heaping pile of horse vomit, but the words are there. On the same site you can also buy a better book, "The Golden Hour Book 2" which has famous people writing in it and everything. Go here and buy them now. Go on. The books are free if you buy the words inside.

http://forpub.com/chapbooks/russell-jones/

Russell Jones

Let's go on a date

2009-10-01T13:44:00.001-07:00

I'm not sure why (bomb threats, perhaps) but the date has changed for my reading at Elvis and Shakespeare. It's now Sunday 1st November at 2pm. Coffee will still be there, so will my hands. It's on Leith walk in Edinburgh, bring a knife.

Russell Jones

National Poetry Day

2009-10-01T13:38:00.000-07:00

It's national poetry day soon (8th of October)! It's just like Christmas but without nice food, presents or Santa, but with lots of poems. To celebrate such a festive time, Wester Hailes Education Centre plan on having me reading a few ditties and answering a few top notch questions from students. If you're a student at WHEC then come along, if you're not then simply de-age, register at the school and join us in the library!

Russell Jones

Paper

2009-09-21T12:07:00.000-07:00

I will be giving a 'lecture' at Edinburgh University on Wednesday 25th November at 2pm. It's called 'Happy Robots: Utopias and Technologies in Edwin Morgan's Science Fiction Poetry' and will involve coffee! If you like coffee, come along.

Russell Jones

Reading (Leith, Edinburgh)

2009-09-17T15:13:00.000-07:00

I will be reading poems and such at the Elvis Shakespeare Bar (in Leith) on Saturday October 24th, 2pm.

Come. Drink. Come. Come. Clean up. Smoke.

http://www.elvisshakespeare.com/index.php

Russell Jones

Edwin Morgan

2009-09-17T13:04:00.000-07:00

All I've done is talk about myself. What sordid and self-obsessed little creatures poets are. That is, except for this man: Edwin Morgan, who is the bestest old man in the world.

Morgan is a hugely witty, humane, experimental and brilliant (I should go on) poet who never fails to make me bleed a little inside. I'm currently researching his Science Fiction Poetry with Edinburgh University, and I suggest you go and read it before you die.

www.edwinmorgan.com

Russell Jones

V: International Writing From Edinburgh

2009-09-17T12:49:00.000-07:00

Continuing to slap your filthy face with my chunky web member (made from random books), here's a book called 'v: New International Writing from Edinburgh' which enjoys being very Scottish whilst simultaneously flying it's crochet flag of internationalism. The first poem of mine is free but the hit'll cost you after that, pal. Spare some change?

Buy it here: http://www.englit.ed.ac.uk/edinburghreview/

Russell Jones

The Golden Hour Book

2009-09-17T12:25:00.000-07:00

If you've got a yearning for books covered in peculiar Cyclops-horse-people, why not buy The Golden Hour Book? It's got words in it, it comes with a very shiny CD, and it's definitely better than incest. I've a few poems in there too so here's a freebie (though if you read it and don't buy the book I hereby own your hollow, penniless soul). Buy it here: http://www.theforest.org.uk/golden-hour-book

Keep watching this space for The Golden Hour Book 2 announcements...!

Russell Jones

"The Last Refuge"

2009-09-16T10:58:00.000-07:00

"The Last Refuge" is my recently-published chapbook from Forest Press.

Science? Fiction? Poetry? Yes, it has them all mixed up like a delicious pint of post-candyshop vomit. From frozen ten year olds to downloadable dreams, hopefully this book has something for everyone and everything for someone.

You can only buy a copy from the publishers at the moment (http://theforest.org.uk/) but it should be available on Amazon in the foreseeable future, though you may have to take out a second mortgage on your Spanish Villa as it's a hefty two pounds British Sterling...!

If you're still not sold on the idea, here's an extract from the book and a glimpse at the (frankly brilliant) cover:

New Site!

2009-09-16T10:42:00.000-07:00

Welcome, poor old tired horse, to my blog.

I am a poet, teacher/tutor and student researcher based in Edinburgh. What's this blog for? Shameless self-promotion, of course, and much much less.

As Reader of the Sacred Blog, I encourage you to contact me if you have any interest in my research, any joy from my writing, or any burning desire to wed or punch me.

Russell Jones

Cadaver, Speak

Interdisciplinary Science Review: Poetries and Sciences in the 21st Century

"Normal" Stuff

Back like a blograt

Eddiversary

Captain Cliche at Captain's Bar

Breaking Open the Medikit: Andrew Philip’s The Ambulance Box

Round Robin for Rascals

Shore Poets - 26 June 2011

The Wee Red BarEdinburgh College of Art74 Lauriston PlaceEdinburgh EH3 9DF

Day 7: Re-entry

Day 6: Whale

Day 5: The Illusionist

Day 4: A Poem for Jordan

Day 3: Chromosome Medley

Day 2: Down on the Beach

Kiss my face

Shhh Wan, it's a library

Manuscripts A-go-go

Shore Arches

Plod Cast

Science Pestival

A Friendly Slam in the Labyrinth

Wham. Bam. Poetry Slam.

Shut me - it's a Morgan fest!

New Scientist on Genomics

No competition

Eargh, you stink!

Fear of The Main Land

A Word from the Scottish Poetry Library

Genomics Poetry Competition: Prize giving and reading

Edinburgh

1000 Clicks

Some Edwin Morgan Stuffs

Proof Test

Bah, Bumhug!

Blog at the same time!

Big Brother is under your bed thinking bad things

Half a Millennium of Moronics

EXCLUSIVE: Jones wins money, buys chair, wipes arse

Please Daddy, No! EDITED VERSION

Ever read a book? Listened to a song?

Goodbye Eddie

Big fat sell out

Me hearties - more pirate blethers

Blog Project

All blogged up

Alice in Blunderland

Baby Botherer

Code Poetry

SUISS (Scottish Universities' International Summer School)

Shore Poets

Conference Nonsense

Cleave me alone!

Willy Wonka's Little Secret

Concrete Poetry

DO ME

Visual Prowess

Conference Frenzy!

Lincoln Quark

Jah, es ist sehr gut!!

Beam me up, Geordie

Top Secret OR ELSE

Science and Poetry at the SPL

Teviot Try-out

Boo Hiss It's Chrispish

Happy Robots

Aesthetica Therapy

Bleergh

Extremophiles

Publicating Me

Shhhh...Talking in the Library

Smart Ickle Art Ickle

Books

Let's go on a date

National Poetry Day

Paper

Reading (Leith, Edinburgh)

Edwin Morgan

The Wee Red Bar
Edinburgh College of Art
74 Lauriston Place
Edinburgh EH3 9DF