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Tenement Press is an occasional publisher of esoteric,
accidental, angular, & interdisciplinary literatures.
My head is my only house unless it rains
Don Glen Vliet
See here for Rehearsal, an ongoing
& growing collation of original (& borrowed)
digital ephemera.
See here for Railroad Flat Radio, an assembly
of works for the radio.
Tenement Press is an occasional publisher of esoteric,
accidental, angular, & interdisciplinary literatures.
My head is my only house unless it rains
Don Glen Vliet
Were a wind to arise
I could put up a sail
Were there no sail
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I’d make one of canvas and sticks
Bertolt Brecht, ‘Motto’
(Buckow Elegies)
I could put up a sail
Were there no sail
Bertolt Brecht, ‘Motto’
(Buckow Elegies)
See here for Rehearsal, an ongoing
& growing collation of original (& borrowed)
digital ephemera.
See here for Railroad Flat Radio, an assembly
of works for the radio.
Rehearsal / 30. Nell Osborne / Three poems.
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THANK Y☺U FOR EVERYTHING
FORTHCOMING
An anthology of poets that went to private school
An anthology of impossible soup recipes
An anthology of dreams from one single night
during which all participating poets are menstruating
An anthology of poets that were spanked as children
subsection for those that never cried at the time
An anthology of poets that remember Section 28
A support group for poets rejected from fashionable ecopoetics anthology
A friend seen from across the road
didn’t call to tell you they were coming by your area huh
An anthology of poets with untreated STDs
without NHS dentists
An anthology of ambitious lyric poets under 30 that wear glasses
with well-paid residencies promoting
STEM careers
the catholic church
the cardiovascular benefits of regular exercise
Then what? still got to make a living
Life extends further than previously anticipated
Here’s a collection of stones at the side of the road
kinda sad look to them
Does that sound like anything?
THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING
1 we are not in a good place
if I had to do the whole thing over
i would
which is why tonight
i’m to be euthanised online
2 where did you get the free at-home STD test
btw—was there an age-limit for
did it hurt the prick
answer when not glamping
obviously
it’s very cold where i am
being ancient sucks
…
3 another year around the dying star, another
emergency birthday card from the sovereign
congratulations, subject:
get comfy as can be, red button mouth
4 in the doghouse for my archaic sexuality
gently as parade time
cometh the hour … WINE O’CLOCK
arrayed in golden livery
5 if I were your wife, I too could become
hell machine
make it my life’s work to foul
6 i have some choice about which column to
your name in the annals
historically speaking from my pie-hole
i appreciate being asked to contribute to your downfall
need to escape the North America of my mind
everybody glitters too clearly and endless energy
7 cars have souls growing out from their soft interior
divine love on the secret motorway of the verge blooms
in my car, pedestrians are obsessed with me
flash sometimes flutter, red-blooded passenger
8 a good offer on need right now only
echoic manhood raised in pasture
the middle so yellow it stings to look at
9 are things that, whether named or not
rove about—it’s still a haunting
the startling green of lichen on grey rock
sudden black rain into an open manhole
10 do I use the exclamatory language of my peers? yes certainly!
suppose that I am thriving!
11 you ever see a heart stop dead
a horse keel all the way over, hey kid
ever see an infrastructure die of generational trauma
blue cheese infamously foreign and weak ego formation
cries too easily
12 i lost my temper with the barman
no particular reason for … my flavour addendum sachet went missing
the poets feel uneasy, they say they can’t forget
i’m no longer to be trusted to speak for the common good
13 oh nooo *checking sent emails*
I let my basest self win
that is: gave in to the minor and frustrated
pleasures of moralising vengeance
rolled I wide and thin in the ball pool
for 20 minutes; ball among ball; then went home
just another gobbled article
14 public transport worse than ever
unreliable and expensive …
15 in answer to your question, I lost the bloom of youth ages ago
sleep beside the younger friends of married friends
call my pretty crocodiles for the way
from creases rumpled bedsheets
press upon the sometime silvered weather drip
when will you visit me at my chamber ☺
NO LANGUAGE LEFT
That first thud draws attention from my phone
oh yes … the world (said like its dumbest disciple)
today will likely be the hottest day on record
since counting seemed worthwhile
experts advise us to put ice cubes down our jiggly brassieres
Sometimes every idea intervenes with the structure of a punchline
I get this thought distinctly every month
I told an endocrinal doctor about the phenomenon
Must be difficult, he simpered, bashful volcano
I remind myself that many doctors lead unhappy personal lives
tormented by demons, despite and not because of
all the time they spend helping
Thudding noise has not stopped either. I move to the window
directly across from me a pigeon flies repeatedly into glass
I watch, a man my age with a grey bob haircut, entirely naked, approaches
his own first-floor bedroom window, puzzled by the bird’s task
He flaps his arms. Stop, he gestures, then notices me
two sheets of glass and 15 feet away. The thudding is the constant,
the strange heat between us. I am not naked as the bird is
naked. We share an amiable shrug. Him and I lift our arms as if
no language left
That first thud draws attention from my phone
oh yes … the world (said like its dumbest disciple)
today will likely be the hottest day on record
since counting seemed worthwhile
experts advise us to put ice cubes down our jiggly brassieres
Sometimes every idea intervenes with the structure of a punchline
I get this thought distinctly every month
I told an endocrinal doctor about the phenomenon
Must be difficult, he simpered, bashful volcano
I remind myself that many doctors lead unhappy personal lives
tormented by demons, despite and not because of
all the time they spend helping
Thudding noise has not stopped either. I move to the window
directly across from me a pigeon flies repeatedly into glass
I watch, a man my age with a grey bob haircut, entirely naked, approaches
his own first-floor bedroom window, puzzled by the bird’s task
He flaps his arms. Stop, he gestures, then notices me
two sheets of glass and 15 feet away. The thudding is the constant,
the strange heat between us. I am not naked as the bird is
naked. We share an amiable shrug. Him and I lift our arms as if
no language left
Nell Osborne published her first poetry pamphlet, The Canine Redeemer Has Entered The Bungalow, in 2021 with Just Not. Her most recent pamphlet, Thank You For Everything, is published by Monitor Books. Her debut novel is forthcoming with MOIST in September 2025.
