Tuesday 27 October 2020

Crossing Puddles by Walter Ruhlmann New Edition

 

The poems which compose this collection are what I call poetry of landscapes, or geographical poems. Yet, as you well know, geography can also be mapping the mind, the life, the existence-s of anyone around. This is where the feelings triggered by these territories led the poet: the observation of the self. I was born in Normandy, France and have been travelling a lot and living in foreign countries and remote places: Bath, Manchester, the Indian Ocean. I settled in centre eastern France in June 2012, and I realised there had been a cycle in this long journey, that I had run away from a place (Normandy) because I found it an excruciating place to live in and felt as if suffocating, it had become my fetters; just to find myself in the same kind of place, twenty-years later, and in a role I quite despised at the time. What other way is there, then, than to travel and map the self, just to escape differently and farther, even if that means losing one's mind?

*****

 Some poems lean toward the lyrical, some toward the narrative.  On one page an elegy, on another an acrostic. A trio of prose poems turns up. One poem, The Horizon of the Poplar Trees, is bilingual. Running Cows delights with humor. You never can tell who or what will show up on the next page.

Throughout Crossing Puddles if we must journey toward our painful understanding, we do so in the soothing company of the weatherman who is also the man who paints landscapes. We experience a sense of wonder for the fog of Normandy, the cold and damp of the Center Eastern French winter. Not surprisingly, but certainly pleasingly, the man in all his iterations is firmly rooted in French soil.  Indeed, the organizing principle of the book is a tour de France with sections titled Nantes, Normandy and Bresse.

Taken together, climate and geography become beauty’s antidote for
“those whose life has gone too thin” (Mamie).

I also think RUHLMANN intends for us to find relief in his lush botanical milieus.  Poet as imp would have us meet the “Messy Messiah, moss in the missing mass (Making Zoran Come). Poet as shaman would have us worship trees.
Karla Linn MERRIFIELD, from the foreword to Crossing Puddles


As an artist of any stripe, it remains a constant duty to one’s vocation to keep questioning, researching, and refining one’s identity. RUHLMANN's Crossing Puddles pays homage to this courageous and ongoing process.
Marie LECRIVAIN, Al-Khemia Poetica, 2015

As its title suggests, Walter Ruhlmann’s Crossing Puddles is a moist, wet and sometimes drenched book. It’s sticky with fluids, supple with organicity, non-cosmetic – and, above all, funky. I mean “funky” in three senses of the term: the olfactory, the depressive and the existentialist a la philosopher Cornel West, who thinks of “funk” as “wrestling with the wounds, the scars, the bruises, as well as the creative responses to wounds, scars, and bruises.” Really, relatively few writers dare to scrape the underside of things, to plumb the profane as much as the sacred, and to pull back humanity’s foreskin to expose its shmegma.
David HERRLE, Subtle Tea, 2016

*****

Another Day Out

 

Decreasing the days from now,
revolution has its own way.
The sparrow flies towards its night,
wings covered with milky dust,
eyes opened wide,
crystal meth falls with its tears.

Clouds cover the landscape,
softly driven from the west;
winds erupt and blow them out;
the rain, the storm have gone astray.

From there
no minds are known
and there are
none left undone.
Forty thousand specks of dust and we count down
stones falling from the wall
the signal has been shown
the other side is our salvation – what salvation are you expecting?

The finding took longer than expected
the caterpillar and the spider mated in the dewy cobweb.
What way out can one find from this?

The green prints, foot steps on the dark soil,
on the other side of the garden
where the dragonfly landed yesterday
to meet the sprites hiding under the hedge row.

*****

What Hides in the Bathroom Drawer

Could there be anything wrong
when night comes?
Or when left alone in the dark
I visit the moister parts of myself.

I mentioned it to her lately.
I could see she was annoyed,
alarmed,
stressed out.
Should I lie and keep smiling
when I feel it all comes back?

This darkness invades my head,
it mingles with all my cells,
the whiteness of my brains only blurred by blood
in the veins and arteries:
small rivulets encircling neuralgias.
They all become full of coal dust
cigarette ashes
thick ink
carbon.

So vintage,
black & white,
sepia
burning crosses,
naked men.
A pale moon invades the room.
Ogres crash in and gulp me down,
flesh and bones.
Big Bad Wolf and Beelzebub
dance together and collide,
they mate and they come.
They give birth in unison
to a devastating son.
He whispers close to my ear
filling my skull with strange sounds
that cannot be erased by songs,
or the birds, fluttering.

*****

Paperback - 71 pages - black & white - 10€ - £12 - $15 from the printer's website

From the author via Paypal with the mail address wruhlmann [at] laposte [dot] net

The Loss Followed by GMO New Edition

 

This collection is five-fold and each part is about five different types of loss: my self-confidence, my father, memory, the love in my partner, and my mind.
 

It is during a period of doubt and hard times that these poems were written. Some of them have appeared in various publications worldwide. The acknowledgement stands at the beginning of the collection after the content page.

*****

 Walter Ruhlmann is a poet who writes with wit and intelligence. His poetry is vivid and accessible full of sharp bright images that invite you into his world and then takes you down roads that trick, amuse and surprise. He sits a little outside of mainstream in so far as his poetry is not trite or obvious, he is someone I enjoy reading and one of those names I look for when a magazine drops through the door.

Jim BENNETT, poet, editor of The Poetry Kit


Walter Ruhlmann is a poet of intersecting universes, a connoisseur and composer of watchful nights, a procreator and juggler of sensual and philosophical discoveries. The gravitational field of his poetry unfolds like the appeal of an ocean echoing the voices of never ceasing questions and restless doubts. His multi-faceted, simultaneously classical and avant-garde oeuvre is a constant impelling force to dedicate our lives to perfecting our perceptive and transcendental worlds while incorporating the tangible, bodily realms as well in order to become the carnal apotheosis of millenary poetical quests.

Károly Sándor PALLAI poet, former editor of Vents alizés

*****

Disgust


Disgust took us last Saturday
its vivid veil falling on us
and covering our lives,
the breaths we were given,
voluntarily or not.

Disgust is like the fog
invading the greenish moors around us
rocks and ghost trees, grey gloomy ghouls
guarding those implacable marshes.

The smell of it is like petrol
invading the nostrils of
this nine-year-old child
at the back of the car
sucking on the temples of
those sun glasses made of plastic.
The filling of the tank
exploding in his nose.

It can also be like the acrid odour
of puke
when six or seven years later
he entered the dark corridor
of lust.

Disgust is shaped like some misshaped
mass in motion.
Monitoring our senses
and our existences.

*****

The Loss


Why would I choose to loose when all I have to do is love?

Loosing can take the shape of flies
circling above your head
in the mid-summer moist air
in a kitchen filled with buzzing black beasts
falling down into the sink
getting stuck onto the glued strip.

The dark room where these straw hats hung,
the toilets of the chessboard queen,
these afternoons with beer or sparkling water
mixed with lemon juice, and chocolate chips.

The loss was there already in the air,
the spirit of it lingered in moist corners,
on the tombstones we would clean,
on the paths to the church they would drag me to,
on the roofs made of wood, made of straw, made of infinite nightmares.

I chose to accept loosing bits of me,
parts of my health, limbs and neurons,
organic cells, just to make sure I would keep you
forever
the space I've made was not enough
and though I held your hand in your last breath
the loss has taken all the room that's left.

*****

Philosophical Fellatio


I want to brush my sex against your cheek.
Do you feel the warmth and the tease?
The voluptuous elation of some undefined concept
from which the casual ways you learned to love erect?

Somehow the touch left me unharmed,
it made me close my eyes and whisper in your ear
some deafening words and secrets
the grapes and the barrel used to keep for themselves.

The fallacies the loons and the jesters share
are as many dead-ends for the pestering hare
the one with those large ears running, chasing,
the philosopher's stone.

I saw it waiting in this room only minutes ago
while all my jizz erupted in your eyes
and your wide-gaping mouth
encircled my penis lingering on your cheek.

*****

10€ - £12 - $15

from the printer's website 

from the author, payment via Paypal:

wruhlmann [at] laposte [dot] net


Wednesday 8 July 2020

Onanism | Self-indulgence

The Secret Companion, R J Brodie London, 1845
‘The Last Stage of Mental & Bodily Exhaustion from Onanism or Self-pollution’


Walter est à la fois un poète jeune et riche de pas mal d’années de fréquentation de la poésie contemporaine, puisqu’il anime notamment Mgversion2datura, son webzine depuis une quinzaine d’années, qui comprend à présent plus de 70 numéros. Et l’indépendance d’esprit naturelle de Walter le conduit à loucher vers la poésie d’ailleurs, l’anglo-saxonne, pays d’îles et parfois de soleil, à travers ses traductions et ses poèmes qu’il nous retourne comme autant de preuves de son amour de la liberté.


Walter is both a young and experienced poet as regard his commitment to contemporary poetry as he has been editing the journal mgversion2>datura since 1996. His natural independent mind drives him to look at the poetry from other parts of the world, mostly poetry in English, from these lands of islands and sun sometimes, a poetry he translates and renders to us as many proofs of his yearning for freedom.

Patrice Maltaverne, French publisher, reviewer and poet. Edits the journal Traction-Brabant and runs Editions du Citron noir.

*****

Walter Ruhlman est un écrivain et un poète, poète à la sauce anglo saxonne, c'est à dire incompris ou ignoré des milieux poétiques français qui n'apprécient pas la poésie du réel peut-être, la poésie du vivre une vie d'homme dans toutes ses dimensions, fort nombreuses et fort riches par ailleurs, sans qu'il soit besoin d'aller chercher on ne sait quoi, on ne sait où, qui "ferait plus poétique". Walter a une plume suffisamment déployée pour puiser autant à la beauté du langage qu'à la crudité de l'existence. Sa propre existence qui lui sert de terreau de création et il n'hésite pas à appeler un chat, une chatte et une queue, une queue. Pour autant, il est loin du nombrilisme caractéristique de bon nombre d'auteurs, il aime et s'intéresse notamment, mais pas que, par le biais de sa revue mgversion2datura, au travail des autres, même si celui-ci n'est pas forcément sa tasse de thé, mais il a l'esprit comme la plume, large et ouvert, l'étroitesse étant réservée sans doute à des plaisirs plus intimes et surtout privés.

Walter Ruhlmann is a writer and a poet definitely turned toward poetry in the English language, that is to say misunderstood or ignored by French poetry circles that do not like real life poetry maybe, poetry of living a man's life in all its dimensions, with so many of them and so rich by the way, without the need to go and fetch whatever, wherever, that would make it more “poetic”. Walter's pen is wide enough to dig as much beauty in the language as crudeness in the existence. His own existence is his creative soil and he does not hesitate to call a puss a pussy and a dick a dick. Yet, he stands away from the common, self-centered authors. Through his journal mgversion2datura, he, especially but not only, likes and is interested in the others' work, even if it's not always his cup of tea, but his mind reflects his pen: it is wide and open – stinginess being certainly kept for more intimate and rather private pleasures.

Cathy Garcia, visual artist, poet and editor of Nouveaux délits.
http://cathygarcia.hautetfort.com & http://gribouglyphesdecathygarcia.wordpress.com


*****

Walter Ruhlmann is a poet who writes with wit and intelligence.  His poetry is vivid and accessible full of sharp bright images that invite you into his world and then takes you down roads that trick, amuse and surprise. He sits a little outside of mainstream in so far as his poetry is not trite or obvious, he is someone I enjoy reading and one of those names I look for when a magazine drops through the door.
Jim Bennett, poet, editor of The Poetry Kit website www.poetrykit.org


*****

Walter Ruhlmann is a poet of intersecting universes, a connoisseur and composer of watchful nights, a procreator and juggler of  sensual and philosophical discoveries. The gravitational field of his poetry unfolds like the appeal of an ocean echoing the voices of never ceasing questions and restless doubts. His multi-faceted, simultaneously classical and avant-garde oeuvre is a constant impelling force to dedicate our lives to perfecting our perceptive and transcendental worlds while incorporating the tangible, bodily realms as well in order to become the carnal apotheosis of millenary poetical quests.
Károly Sándor Pallai, editor in chief of Vents alizés (Seychelles) http://ventsalizes.wix.com/revue


*****

In his poetry Walter surprises with the oddest observations and turns of phrase. Whether R-rated, alliterative or sculpted for visual form, Walter’s lines – even at their most dramatic – ring genuine. From CARMINE CARNIVAL I get the sense that he’s a probing watcher and a sensitive ruminator, to the point of discomfort while treading over the gravesites of souls long gone. Walter’s work on the mgversion2>datura journal is impressive, to say the least. It’s obvious that a lot of time and care go into its production, and many artists have benefited from Walter’s dedication, expertise and nose for talent. I’m pleased to know him and his work.
David Herrle - SubtleTea Editor http://www.subtletea.com/

Thursday 2 January 2020

2019 Publications



  • Traversées, janvier: Les pies sont là
  • Furtives, janvier: La route est longue (Dix ans après #5)
  • madswirl, February: The Hole
  • Post Mayotte Trauma, second edition – Beakful
  • poeticdiversity, April: Leprechaun
  • Poppy Road Review, April: The South
  • Synchronised chaos, May: The Key, The Hole, Filth No More, Silence is the Loudest Scorn and Rear Lights
  • Oddball Magazine, May: A Screwdriver Right in the Heart
  • Horror Sleaze Trash Journal, May: From the Depths…
  • Gondal Heights: A Brontë Tribute Anthology, May: Alexander
  • Madswirl, June: The Levelling Reaper
  • poeticdiversity, November: Ten Years Later #1
  • Madswirl, December: Tannenbaum

Saturday 22 June 2019

Gondal Heights: A Brontë Tribute Anthology

Cover Image: Heather Schubert
I'm proud to have a poem published in this fabulous anthology edited by Marie C. Lecrivain (poeticdiversity: the litzine of Los Angeles). After Rubicon: Words and Art Inspired by Oscar Wilde's De Profundis (Sybaritic Press, 2015), in which I already had two poems published ("The Last Supper" and "An Accomodation of a Sort"), this amazing editrix comes back with another anthology: Gondal Heights: A Brontë Tribute Anthology, full of awesome work. Available from Amazon

Gondal Heights contains poems, short stories, essays, and works of art inspired by the Brontës, all of which are highly engaging and personal. Whether it’s Heather Schubert’s beautiful cover art, Sarah Maclay’s gorgeous prose poem “Field of Thorns”, or Angel Uriel Perales’ moving tribute, “Branwell Brontë’s Fevre Dream Decorum”, every piece is inspired by the Brontës, either from their lives, or from their work, which, after two centuries, still influences global culture, and other art forms.

Paperback: 106 pages
Publisher: Sybaritic Press (May 31, 2019)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1645701549
ISBN-13: 978-1645701545

Price: $12.99 + shipping buy it here

Thursday 28 February 2019

The Loss followed by GMO Reissued


The Loss followed by GMO (Great Moments of Oblivion)
Poems by Walter Ruhlmann

Cover art by Walter Ruhlmann

© 2014-2019, Flutter Press and the author.

$9 plus shipping directly from the printer's website

Walter Ruhlmann is a poet who writes with wit and intelligence. His poetry is vivid and accessible full of sharp bright images that invite you into his world and then takes you down roads that trick, amuse and surprise. Jim BENNETT, poet, editor of The Poetry Kit

Walter Ruhlmann is a poet of intersecting universes, a connoisseur and composer of watchful nights, a procreator and juggler of sensual and philosophical discoveries. The gravitational field of his poetry unfolds like the appeal of an ocean echoing the voices of never ceasing questions and restless doubts. His multi-faceted, simultaneously classical and avant-garde oeuvre is a constant impelling force to dedicate our lives to perfecting our perceptive and transcendental worlds while incorporating the tangible, bodily realms as well in order to become the carnal apotheosis of millenary poetical quests.
Károly Sándor PALLAI poet, editor of Vents alizés



Disgust


Disgust took us last Saturday
its vivid veil falling on us
and covering our lives,
the breaths we were given,
voluntarily or not.

Disgust is like the fog
invading the greenish moors around us
rocks and ghost trees, grey gloomy ghouls
guarding those implacable marshes.

The smell of it is like petrol
invading the nostrils of
this nine-year-old child
at the back of the car
sucking on the temples of
those sun glasses made of plastic.
The filling of the tank
exploding in his nose.

It can also be like the acrid odour
of puke
when six or seven years later
he entered the dark corridor
of lust.

Disgust is shaped like some misshaped
mass in motion.
Monitoring our senses
and our existences.

Wednesday 26 December 2018

Poèmes 1993-2001

Disponible aussi sur lulu.com
ISBN: 9780244445027
15€ (+ frais de port) -- 308 pages -- couverture souple

Lire Walter Ruhlmann, c'est ouvrir un tiroir secret de notre conscience. C'est aussi s'élargir l'esprit et cultiver le goût de la différence.
Frédéric MAIRE, dans Press-stances n°7, décembre 1995


Walter a une conscience aiguë de sa propre existence, de ses envies, de ce qu’il veut ou ne veut pas en faire, des plaisirs qu’il y trouve, comme de ses souillures et de ses souffrances. Sa poésie est son album de voyage, la trace de son itinéraire parmi les hommes. Et ce besoin, de dire et d’écrire, il l’exprime debout, dehors, face aux vents. Il se mouille, forcément. Alors pour vous, je ne sais pas ; moi, il m’atteint, me touche et me mouille aussi. La poésie de Walter ne sent pas la rose, c’est certain. Pourtant, quel parfum de rose pourrait ainsi vous prendre à la gorge ?
Bzone, préface à L'horizon des peupliers, 1998


Je déclare que Walter Ruhlmann est la version française de Georg Trakl, et puis c’est tout.
Marie Lecrivain, éditrice de la revue américaine poeticdiversity, Facebook 2017

*****