Tuesday, 4 January 2011


May 2002
Contributors in this issue are:

Allen Fisher

Active as a poet since 1967, Allen Fisher has worked as printer and painter (examples of his Fluxus work are in the Tate Gallery collection) and as editor of Spanner magazine and books. After a considerable period in London (the mainspring of his Place sequence 1974-1981), he moved to Hereford, where he teaches at Hereford College of Art. His work includes Brixton Fractals (Aloes 1985), Unpolished Mirrors (Reality studios 1986), Stepping Out (Pig Press) 1989), Dispossession and Cure (Reality Street 1994), and Breadboard (Spanner 1995).

Scott Thurston

Scott Thurston's publications include Poems Nov 89 - Jun 91 (1991),

Stateswalks (1994) (both Writers Forum) and Two Sequences (RWC, 1998). He also appeared in Sleight of Foot (Reality Street, 1996). He has just completed a Ph.D thesis on British Linguistically Innovative Poetry and Poetics. He currently edits the poetics journal The Radiator.

Colin Harris

Colin Harris was born and raised on the Wirral. He writes fiction and poetry, as well as tinkering with songwriting. He is currently studying his MA in writing studies at Edgehill.

Alan Halsey

Born in Croydon, Halsey ran The Poetry Bookshop in Hay-on-Wye 1979-97, a key source for British and American small press material. He runs West House Books, and has published papers on David Jones and Thomas Lovell Beddoes. He now lives in Sheffield. His books include Perspectives on the Reach (Galloping Dog 1981), Auto Dada Café (Five Seasons 1987), Five Years Out( Galloping Dog Press 1989), Reasonable Distance (Equipage 1992), and A Robin Hood Book (West House 1996).

Andrew Taylor

Andrew Taylor is poet-in-residence at Liverpool Architecture and Design Trust (www.ladt.org.uk) and is currently researching the role that locality

plays in poetry for his PhD. His work has appeared nationally and locally,

in print and on the air waves.


1. Allen Fisher- Vole (p.1)

2. Colin Harris- Father / Dead Language (p.8/p.9)

3. Alan Halsey- Visual Art

4. Scott Thurston- The Child’s Ear Place (p.10)

5. Andrew Taylor- Deoua- (p.22)

Allen Fisher


There was once a town...

the intellectual reality

of a root-tree

where life seemed

a strange blight

in binary logic harmony

with its surroundings

a syntagmatic model

disrupted the idea of garden

a city street

criteria exacted as reportability

without coherent row

shred-multiplies assumption.

A burglar hastens to disorder,

a self-condemning look,

arrested at a touch dock.


no baggage ... no friends accompany adieux

simply moths and rust

in the midst of Paradise, Good night

several times descended by way of a trap-door,

announces opening of

a pocket filled with gunpowder

charged with laudanum

“In no Paradise myself,

I am impatient of all misery

without madness, how does she do it

without the spin of a shroud out of herself?

Get these traps out of sight.

The meeting of hands, eyes fastened,

tears the glue,

a foolproof test to distinguish truth

from falsehood, probability is enough,

things have to get done.

Paradise becomes a

private area

beyond the control of law or public opinion.

Enjoyment of activity enslaves

but no action binds the self,

in its multiplicity its freedom.

Free will, like a plowing neighbour,

needs the distinction between

good and bad, a blacksmith maintains,

welds to the notion of cause

a because, in relation to moral action,

an acquired responsibility

that demands

accountable spacetime.


The Blacksmith knows she must do something,

knows she can

because she comprehends her freedom

without need to cohere it.

She feels obliged from a law which she legislates.

“My need for dignity need not

derive from reason. I choose its being.”

She at least hopes for the possibility

of improvement, stands

in the garden and proposes a pond.

It is a moment of coherence and hiatus

that postulates connection

and change

where contract

between individual and common good

becomes necessity

in a knowledge of alternatives.

Her freedom signals a position to shape

the character of where she digs.

She brings compatibility without strain

to cohere or call forth an angel,

free to have the will she wants,

wants a civitas.

The demand is for reference

to the welfare of the community

merged in a joint stock company of

freedom and determinism.

A shrill of echoing distinctions

speed up

not completely under the control of another

able to care for each other and whose welfare

depends on each other’s freely chosen action

constitute a good before the door bangs.

The Blacksmith achieves freedom,


articulates her being as part of nature,

an enhanced self-understanding,

without reduction to sensible spontaneity.

She dredges her humanity to distinguish

the useful from the proven.

The duration wherein she acts

becomes a duration wherein her states

melt into each other.

The intimate nature of this action

becomes a discussion of human freedom,

oh yeah, hold on!


The Moorman uses nonlinear analysis

to examine recorded succession

compares this with dynamics parameterised

with field data predicts an agitation that resembles

observation of boreal rodent populations.

This appparency of mutual chaos

consists with the results of

the analysis of directed succession.

The amplitude of the Moorman’s observed

vole flucuations somewhat greater than,

stochasticly interrupted, that predicted.

Hold on!

Each object’s information demands

deaccession, broken egg shells

to analyse connection residues between

pesticides and eggshell thinning.

Regardless of the angle of incidence

a particle leaves in a vertical direction

slowed eventually turned down

by gravity above limited in motion

by a mirror beneath trapped

in stepped increases

jumped from a moment of austerity –

daisies on the lawn

illuminate a row

of new crocus shoots

wishing you the compliments

recovers a sense

of the coming season

Intelligible freedom versus forgery

to discard perfection

and account for responsibility

in place of composition

demands justice

spellbound at recollection

speaks of “equal rights”

an accessory of it

wants to get away

has not yet superiority

or numbness irresponsible and

no business

the menagerie a gravitational

privilege of not being

or an automaton centre within itself

demanding peripheral intelligence

that iron bars can be profitable

animal-trainers not afraid

of terrible means is presupposition

“freedom” at the risk of choosing wrongly

a picture of the world in which

a critique of morality

frees functions of first insight

juxtaposes multiplicity

a geographical relativity

of judgements against obligation,

eyes leaning on the tv whilst reading

against legality, against the compulsion to

happiness a consequence of rodent

fitness the result of self-direction

the drive called resistance the measure

of freedom as positive capital

the degree of power

that the one or the other should exercise

experiment in self-overcoming

emergence to exceptional actions

a positive hesitantly achieved, terrible as fake

to prevent a governed whole

And to what end

raised and trained?

The urge to self-sufficiency,

simplifies, distinguishes,

make unambiguous

a preference for surface beavers.


Actions are partly indeterminate to

which becoming clings to distinct moments, condensed

matter digested into movements of

response passed through the meshes

of natural necessity, free from the particular

rhythm which grades the flow in such a

way that sensible qualities, in memory-perception,

particulate aspects of a successive reality.

You’d expect our willings were



by being oppos’d”

as if spacetime

dominated the proceeds

of search because

each occasion

is first of all

a search for truth, a

premeditated decision

in advance of the good

oblivious to

truth’s implicit nostalgia

Beneath a sewer

live kids discuss

potential of

matches of moving visual media

with performance of text

misread into their own gullibility

dismissal of community use

in a pretence of its celebration.

They watch the collision again

and watch account of is repetition

in a pie chart, a Boltzmann truth

a prediction of text before it is read

eyes glue balled in a rodent sharpness

quicker than fox call

with less smell and wile

in which self-destruct is

superceded or given narrative

intention, rows of calculated pronouns

and implicit actions, forward

or more cunning

surprised around the corner

by every spelling era

every swing of the camera

in mobile seat tracks

on the motorway on the

video belt off limits

voice of a stomach pump

dialectic coherence, bless them,

The marked distinction between light as substance

and degrees of freedom remains but he

does not remember this threshold opposition

of the inextended and extended notions

of freedom intimately organised with necessity.

What the Burglar takes from substance

the perceptions on which it feeds they become

movements flick in and away nietzsche’d

in revelations or mistakes steeped with

expectations of a future freedom.

Colin Harris


new life

old life

i do what i need to survive

the phone

i loved her once

people change

i changed

and changed her

it’s all done now


I love

Whatever anyone thinks, I love

Colin Harris
January 2001

Dead Language

Scott Thurston


A writing-through of the novels Ambiguous Adventure (1962) by Cheikh Hamidou Kane and Weep Not Child (1964) by Ngugi Wa Thiong’o


the child’s ear place already healed

trying to recite my verse correctly

accurate in repeating the flashing

sentence this word was not like

mastering completely the smallest

measure instant eyes lowered

to tablet some steps rectified

my error gave me attentiveness

over and over the text restored

the morning at a sign now seen

in profile periodically edified


now refused pressure to commit

filing into the cabin for long

periods the chief rose at verse

topics caught at intervals

with my finger and said

in another year that road produces

a pause at the proper prepared

age taking classical possession

of me

this man who dominated obeyed

the directions of stature

with his own hands as if

pain were not visibly present

when the hour arrived at the

level of fashion the aroused mood

left me remaining serious

held back towards the east

my will is better completely

bound restored with recourse

on essential points once more

the solid ground of mutual


am I a landmark sufficiently

furrowed under my stable so

the authority trembles you

are that also

the absence of weight gives use

of arms to add another word

long drawn out tone changed

rose in the scale brief

something multiplies the beatings

composing themselves conquered

invisible and imperious disorder

organised appeased rebellion mornings

of resentment resound with songs

neither of them wants the other

imposing the necessity of sitting

where its necessity has landed

several seconds same movement

already acquainted with a motion

clear around streets of white marl

red sand milky euphorbia


lay straight ahead out flat at

nape neck seated setting dyed

passage basalt muscle riveted

spoken for the sake of saying

I had begun at once to think

of rising to envisage cruelties

of the same order these reasons

pulled the fold over my finger

to draw the measure on hearth

mimicry of original colours

to associate itself with

delicate weight evidence

but at the same time it exiles

you here more and more slow

invasion of garment decisions

the hand which acts the succession


of numbers in all senses without

limits is short and plain nothing

more easily can be said no more

reason to say this

preserve it hence work is strict

full littleness compelled to part

between the inverted assurance of

banner and wind

everything will depend on a

courier captured at the end of

the itinerary reef reference

at disposal had this choice



on my body for the first time

I am being trained to be a modern

white man to go and disturb

the other young men and women

they wanted to hear stories

together in the same place

showing their new clothes

starting to read and write

you had been there out

in the courtyard a number of times

around the whole compound always

curious to know what the inside looked like

that was used for all the forming

part of the day’s proceedings

which in turn caused the long grace

to be cut short


I very rarely alluded to the

actual fighting very much we

all behaved as if it were a very

popular place

the habit was observed and accepted

by all but sometimes just

taking anything you’re given not

wishing to appear ignorant

why don’t you start to

retaliate you always asked

you thought the end of all living

was the very best a boy could have

don’t pretend you don’t know the

answer can’t you see

what I am doing is important

I could be rich


annoyed with myself at my poor showing

I could now be heard trying to

re-establish myself by telling them

what they ought to have answered

why didn’t I speak up when

she was here singing the answer

what would I feel if I touched

her when she entered

sometimes men came to see my father

as the centre of everything as long

as he lived nothing could go wrong

putting implicit faith in him

they talked about affairs of the talks

felt intimate with this man

sure that they had read him

it was obvious

I wanted an assurance a foretaste

of the future before it came I

could do the same thing now

seriously and quietly


I was still listening when I

fell asleep from defeat and exhaustion

the people gathered there

could not applaud

it fixed me to the ground

the images around transformed

from something grey to blue

and then to total black

I cleared my eyes the black

remained there now approaching

and then I saw I was now

speaking in a loud voice

everyone listened to me in silence

but something unusual happened

to me for one single moment

I crystallized into a concrete


physical personification of the platform

while everyone watched

wondering what was happening

I kept on looking at the ground

and then rose up unsteadily

I almost fell down into the

surprised audience

but first I laughed

they took us to the field

then when you escaped we were put

into trucks the truck in which I was

slowed down to look at my knee

but what could I have done

what had gone before me gave

me vitality I had to go on

sorely tried alienated further

by the something that had urged me

I wondered if I had really done well

if I had failed I was ready

to suffer for it


but whatever I had been prepared

to do to redeem myself would not

be ordered even if I had been to

many places and knew many things

I had no right to reverse custom

I stopped and stared at all the people

who had fallen into the building

I could have stopped it if I thought

all this would work out well in the end

the gun and the pistol I carry

make me a stranger


I was not really attending when I

heard some people talking of my own

death people are always avoiding me

I think the country really needs me


I was not too happy in the morning

I did not like the last observation

so much that I have been unable

to write

in the post of pain I was called

into a small room

one of the guards outside


I sat in the corner seeing the

emergency in a new light

as I could not lift my hand

I turned my eyes fell

there was a cold security

in command of another

presence in the room

standing at the door

away from the light

he seemed to hesitate


Andrew Taylor


Florescent lights stripped

Explosives drilled concrete struts naked

‘The light pours out of me’

Altered horizons one way Thornton Road

Launderette lit beacon like an early warning station

‘A person isn’t safe anywhere these days’

River mind metallic sounds gaping holes

Cut through security passes idle in grids

‘Into the arms of Venus de Milo’

Washing drying on landings boxed in banisters

Lilac angled bedroom ceiling

‘It takes guts to be gentle and kind’

Temporary roosting place between floors

Shelter in lift shafts disturbed emptiness

Snow gathers on ledges

‘See you at the barricades’

(with thanks to Ursula Hurley)



Morning Light: Lee Harwood , Slow Dancer Press. London. 1871033411. £6.99

The end of the twentieth century: a text for readers and writers. Robert Sheppard. Ship of Fools, 2002

The Radiator: A Journal of Contemporary Poetics, edited by Scott Thurston. The Radiator publishes essays on poetics by contemporary writers.

The Text Of Shelley’s Death. (First trade edition. Prose Poem) by Alan Halsey. 0904052002. £8.95

Your thinking Tracts Or Nations. 14 pictures by Alan Halsey with 14 poems/sequences by Kevin Corcoran. 1904052029. £7.95

NOCTIVAGATIONS. Geraldine Monk. New poems & performance pieces, her first substantial collection since Interregnum (1993). 0953150992. £10.95


New Art Gallery. Liverpool

Collect Gallery, 49 Lark Lane, Liverpool (Gallery run by Caroline Black)


RE-USE an exhibition of work by artists from the North West/ North of England, dealing with issues of recycling within their art practice, will be held @ The Collect Gallery (artist led) from 15th April until 13th May.

Gallery opening times

Mon/tuse 11 am – 5pm

Wed/thur closed

Fri/sat 11am-6pm

Sun 11am- 5pm



Neon Highway recognises the need for ongoing change and innovation in poetry and art.

The magazine aims to encourage diversity and creative individuality.


4 issues £5

Single issue £1.75

Submissions sent to the editor:

Alice Lenkiewicz

35 Glebe Road




Cheques made out to:

Alice Lenkiewicz

Artwork submissions in black and white, no larger than A4

Originals not necessary.

Please enclose sae for all work to be returned


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