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Nemesia IV -Detonations-

Nemesia IV -Detonations-

#Nemesia 4: -Detonations- by Yekta & SJ Fowler
Sublime poetry in Wazo Magazine by the poet and artist  Steven J. Fowler who presents poems written in collaboration with contemporary poets from across Europe. This time with the french poet Yekta.



The magnetic mumbles of the city have stopped
and in its place is a magnet, unworked, static
noiseless and quiet. A velvet battery
which, when licked, when shock only upon
time delay. Like echoes of a cancelled killing – or, to get clearer : ex post facto drafts.

A sleepy pulsar wondering about its lost spin.
A tired start weathering the quiet weather
caused not by the size of the city
but the people who insist on visiting – Mindblowing sightseeing : looking at the still wind and listening to the heart of the flies.

This is a city where

It happens I’m the thing supposing that something is supposed to happen
Does it make me alive ? To deliberately walk, nightly
into electricity damaged into traps
broken into powerpoints, with have slots, holes
into which I stick forks, that are now, magnets.
And knives planted in concrete are pulsing, out of time.
I’m searching for the wire flower, looking for the buzzing bud,
I’ve been told in a previous life that eating savage grass makes wiser
women of nighttime emailing.
For example, what is Swedish meaning
for French ideas? What is Spanish pronunciation for German suppressed feelings ? What does the phrase
I think I’m going under
actually mean, when digitised?

Again :
It happens I’m the thing supposing that something is supposed to happen

Silence changes listeners into animals on the lookout
Silence alters animals back into listeners, blind,
Into soft creatures caressing the deaf ones to make them feel what they cannot speak of
Victims of kilowatts banquets witnessing the afterlunch nightmares of engines
Perpetrators of violent episodes are locked into further seeing foodless machines.
We’re feeding fool lovers with counterfeit pennies that make them hungry
and now they’re craving for a past that never was
because the past can never be
only is as it was
which is an obstacle like oneself.
For example, you cannot escape yourself – Well, except in a future which will never be reached by time because present refuses to get off the air. Lucky us. We are alternatives of ourselves – and none of them has never met.

Jonas in a bad stomach chemistry
spills out a spitting whale and we are left with two cities + a nowhere to be found border we’re wandering.

Another one is born.

Acerca del autor

Steven J Fowler

SJ Fowler is a writer, poet and artist who lives in London.

His work has been commissioned by Tate Modern, BBC Radio 3, Somerset House, Tate Britain, the London Sinfonietta, Kettle’s Yard, UNESCO, Whitechapel Gallery, Southbank Centre, National Centre for Writing, National Poetry Library, Science Museum and Liverpool Biennial amongst others.

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