Central belt secret press. :)

(send money here on paypal). *halo*

scrunch curlew (2023)
A sequence into a box of soaring.


Honeyfeed (2023)
‘Some of the alien versions own vending machines and were discovered during prehistory. You can create one any day of the year. I want that to be me, always created any day of the year. Every time you blink. Baby, mutant, alien. Gallery, Acara. Bubble text. I’m semi-aquatic and love treasure-hunting.’ These letters were written after a prompt set by Eileen Myles in a workshop on PATHETIC TYPING hosted by the Woodberry Poetry Room in February 2022.


To order from the UK, send £7 (this includes delivery) plus your address as a note;
To order from overseas, send £12 (this includes delivery) plus your address as a note
to mariasledmere[at]outlook.com. 


A hot flarfy mess of a pamphlet, released exclusively as Lossy Compressed as part of a performance at The Hug and Pint, Glasgow in August 2022.



Sans Soleil - with fred spoliar (2022)
*special joint release with Face Press

Written between the summer and winter solstices of 2020, this is a sequence of twelve sections, each one marking a turn in the weather, a break in cloud, a spell between intimacy and distance. Inspired by Chris Marker’s 1983 film of the same name, Sans Soleil explores a poetics of dissolve, mediation and temporal sabotage. It asks, what is it to touch and be touched across fluctuating scales and times, to figure memory and dailiness in the tension of image and its repurposing as commodity and affective currency? In a chiaroscuro lyric of light and shadow, Sans Soleil dwells in the virtual ecotones where species might touch, meld dreams or experience ‘a sort of cramp in language’ which signals elemental change as song. Each section was written in synchronous sessions where the lines were written ‘in turn’ between fred and Maria, alongside para conversations about the uses and abuses of pastoral.

Inner: Munken Lynx rough 120gsm with Munken Lynx rough 300gsm covers, brass staples
Cover: Black, Yellow, Aqua, Fluorescent Pink, Metallic Gold riso. Typeface is GlyphWorld (Meadow) by Leah Maldano.
Inside Cover: Metallic Gold riso
Inners: Black, with Sunflower and Yellow riso to title page

*with hand-coloured solar glyphs*

ISBN: 978-1-913010-69-0


SOLD OUT of the Mermaid Motel store but you can still order a copy of the pamphlet from Face Press.

Sans Soleil - posters (2022)

Sun Glyph (double-sided A4)
Paper: Munken Lynx Rough 300gsm
Front: Metallic Gold and Black
Reverse: Black, Yellow, Aqua, Fluorescent Pink, Metallic Gold

Full cover (single sided A4)
Paper: Unicorn White, 250-300gsm (heavy)
Front: Full colour art print


** please specify as a note on PayPal whether you would like a Sun Glyph or Full cover poster. **


Leave Bambi Alone (2022)

Documenting the festive habits of a special cat, the early career of Björk, champagne pageantry and calorie paradise, the wearing of acid berets, childhood whims and ‘the iCloud tabs of our ancestors’, this is a bad poem written in defence of shy animals who love in the livid dream their tiny world.by Maria Sledmere

ISBN: 978167819489587
87pp / Pocket Book 
Soft-touch laminate

Buy a copy here.


Soft Friction - with Kirsty Dunlop (2021)

Here we present you a bundle of our dreams, wrapped in something like a rhythm, or did we mean a ribbon? Soft Friction is an intimate gathering of dreams from 2018, written during a summer of ‘existential soup’, fainting at gigs, pulling all-nighters and panic surrealism. Extracted from a longer diary, these fragments wear the sensuality and sass of an active dream life shared between two people getting high on each others’ brains. From dolphins thrashing in kitchens, to maths equations, celebrity encounters and shopping for underwear, the pamphlet runs through the four stages of sleep and wakes you with a cheeky tickle of incompleteness.

44pp / A5 b/w
100gsm recycled natural paper
£5 inc. UK P+P

To order, email kirsty_dunlop[at]hotmail.co.uk or simply paypal £5 to this email with your postal address. For orders outside the UK drop Kirsty an email for postage.


Miss Anthropocene (2021)

A selection of short lyric, ‘ethereal nu metal’ poems responding to the Elon Musk/Grimes complex, from intimations of emerald fortunes to billionaire shares, conceptual infinity and big e-girl energy. Through academic research, poetry and music criticism, Sledmere has binged on the ‘miss anthropocene’ project for some years now, and the arrival of Grimes’ 2020 album of the same name, on the brink of pandemic lockdown, was the final impetus to write this. Responding to the record’s conflations of misanthropy and our current geological epoch, Miss Anthropocene explores weird desire, gender, material intimacy, temporal distortion, apocalypse vibrations, pop music and a petropoetics of excess and residue within the frenzied dramaturgy of late capitalism and climate crisis. In lieu of the doom scroll, this is a post-internet ecopoetry of ‘massive dance lament’, lyric survival, surface tension, sexy ambience, dreamplay and visions.

56pp / 148x148mm
Perfect-bound 130gsm (silk)
200gsm gloss-laminated cover


To order from the UK, send £7 (this includes delivery) plus your address as a note;
To order from overseas, send £12 (this includes delivery) plus your address as a note
to mariasledmere[at]outlook.com.


lana del rey playing at a stripclub (2019)
Suffering from mutual insomnia and obsession with Lizzie Grant’s entire discography, the artist Douglas Pattison messaged Maria Sledmere with a soOothing video from YouTube. The video in question, ‘lana del rey playing at a stripclub’ is one hour, twenty minutes of sheer hypnagogic delight, soothing reverb, metallic twang and distance. Inspired by the single-image video, in which the user ‘mabel’ parks their car to listen to Lana’s entire set, Sledmere’s poems are interested in the desire economy of the outside looking in, in the tremble between motion and stasis, in shortcuts to a sadcore planetary imaginary. Combining insouciant lyrics with slices of pop hauntology and medial musings, lana del rey playing at a stripclub sings for the night, for the young and (un)beautiful and for the internet of no-one in particular. In spirit it swings between the laconic aporias of Chelsey Minnis and some kind of ambient, apocalypse waltz that even the most adamant of 6music dads might tap their brogues to.

28pp / A5 landscape
Matt-laminate cover
Sold out