u make me laugh in a different way is a style guide for today’s modern poet; it is Justin Bieber’s oiled torso illustrating the month of September; it is realising, belatedly, that some of your most cherished memories didn’t actually involve you but a now long-forgotten, minor character from Coronation Street; it is hating every single, last ex-ballroom dancer in the world for laughing, forever, at their own jokes and for sitting behind you, noisily, at work; it is Pizza Hut rather than Pizza Express; it is second string supermodels with murder in their eyes; it is the eternally rolling screen of an iPhone-whatever; it is boredom and face worship in equal measure, skating on the surface of everything always and empathising – wildly – with Taylor Swift’s romantic dilemmas; it is Berrigan theft and O’Hara homage and weddings in April (a cruel month); it is hurlements in favour of the domestic, delivered with all the vigour contained in an overweight, forty year old northerner’s frame; it is your face reflected back at you from Ross Kemp’s shiny forehead as he strikes another important blow against ISIS; and it is, finally, a love letter to the only person in the world who matters and the very least tribute the poet could pay that person’s life-saving skills.
Richard Barrett’s poetry spans years, forms and assorted, scattered A4 refill pads. Recent titles of his include LOVE LIFE! (Stranger Press, 2016) and Endless / Nameless with Rachel Sills (Red Ceilings Press, 2015). He presents an irregular cinema podcast on Matt Dalby’s Santiagos Dead Media channel. When not busy taking poetry to the next level or watching films, he can be found drinking coffee in one of Manchester’s many very fine Costa outlets or walking in Longford Park with his wife.
Dimensions: 12.7 x 0.6 x 20.3 cm
Cat No: DW-214
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