“Sod the wine, I want to suck on the writing. This man White is an instinctive writer, bloody rare to find one who actually pulls it off, as in still gets a meaning across with concision. Sharp arbitrage of speed and risk, closest thing I can think of to Cicero’s ‘motus continuum animi.’

Probably takes a drink or two to connect like that: he literally paints his senses on the page.”

DBC Pierre (Vernon God Little, Ludmila’s Broken English, Lights Out In Wonderland ... Winner: Booker prize; Whitbread prize; Bollinger Wodehouse Everyman prize; James Joyce Award from the Literary & Historical Society of University College Dublin)





12 March 2014


Tailem Bend ... photo Philip White


Consecutive Dreams


fourteen outa the venturi each side 
inch long in the old money
pretty on the end like target slugs

it was easy but it bled
like ripping feather dusters
tight cellophane strapped
soft and so dumb
relieving the choked fuckin nostrils

shit it felt good

but how did that evolve from a lizard scale

them pinfeathers up my hooter?


climbed from tennis court to church
reptile nostrils twitch empty
great warriors rip each other to bits

they put their best clothes on

rush like ants
shove each other valiant wadding 
and wait for platelets

they do not know anybody

I lick their tiny window

Philip White


1 comment:

big LIZ said...

... always have your translations checked by many, including somebody who understands English ...

you wrote that one here yesterday now you write this