This weekend’s guest poem is by Howard Wright, a Portadown poet and artist who has published in journals the wordl over for the past twenty years or so, but whose first full-length collection (the brilliant King of Country) only appeared a year or two back. Howard’s stuff isn’t often as explicit or ‘public-facing’ as this one, but it felt right for Slugger.
The Election Party
For T M
Plausibility’s the thing.
Appearance and reality.
Something they like to think they’re not.
Ambition’s the thing.
Social policy, bread-and-butter issues.
A new identity. Candidates
reaching beyond themselves and failing.
New colours, slime and rust.
A new haircut’s the thing.
The hair of the dog. And new words,
anabiosis and herpetophobia,
and knowing the value of words,
drinking down every gain,
reaching into ourselves for insults
and succeeding, fucking them out,
every last sleazeball and pain.