Well, I currently don't have good news about my life (I don't have a new job or fiance, although I did meet Alexis Bledel and David Cross (lovingly known as Tobias on Arrested Development) which was pretty cool, but beside the point of this post) but I feel the same need to share good news about things I love and enjoy. Most notably, good books and good music. And this weekend, I was introduced to a new book (of poetry).
Derrick C. Brown stole my heart from the moment I saw him (he's attractive). And then he stole my soul when he opened his mouth. He's unmercifully witty and honest. It's refreshing. His writing is penetrating. He manages to have you laughing one stanza and then grip your chest the next. Seeing him read his work made me wonder why poetry has never been done this way before. I've realized that a truly great poet, who can make you feel every emotion on the spectrum through a few words on a page, must have a thorough command over language. Language doesn't limit the poet's thoughts but are at his mercy. I wish I had that. As for now. I'll admire those who do. So even if poetry makes you cringe, give Derrick a try. You won't regret it. I'll even provide you with a sample or two.
Collide Escape
Whatever you dropped in the dark
can be recovered in the morning.
We will find the turquoise ring
that clutched the mud and grass
as I ripped your costly jeans,
down to your soft calves.
The night rain, beading upon your skinny spine.
If you were drunk, I didn't know.
You didn't say anything stupid.
Your tongue was blossoming,
pronouncing your kiss, cleanly.
I was glad your breath was hot enough
to melt the night resin off of me.
I read my hands down your simple gospel
and I no longer need 34th Street miracles.
Are you sure you want this mess?
I am a submarine
full of gasoline
and you're water proof matches.
I am suspended in the cinema of that moment
next to the house
collapsing in the dirt
where I needed you.
Fathom under fathoms,
that's how heavy I laid upon you.
What are you to me?
You are more than on my side,
You are the weapon on my side.
Safety off.
Rest under the shadow of my gut.
Unsentimental kissing.
A gushing reveille for strangers becoming victorious.
Walk through the valley of the 5 o'clock shadow.
Pyrokinetic honeysuckle, let's boycott the hocus pocus
and get straight to the secret . . . .
Are you the one snarling in the family photo?
Are you the one crackling voltage in the yearbook?
Then you are the pearl I steal.
Your eyes, a kaleidoscope of collide and escape.
Navigate to me by the map of fallen stars.
Love rises back to you
like an escalator fragrance.
Collide Escape
Whatever you dropped in the dark
can be recovered in the morning.
We will find the turquoise ring
that clutched the mud and grass
as I ripped your costly jeans,
down to your soft calves.
The night rain, beading upon your skinny spine.
If you were drunk, I didn't know.
You didn't say anything stupid.
Your tongue was blossoming,
pronouncing your kiss, cleanly.
I was glad your breath was hot enough
to melt the night resin off of me.
I read my hands down your simple gospel
and I no longer need 34th Street miracles.
Are you sure you want this mess?
I am a submarine
full of gasoline
and you're water proof matches.
I am suspended in the cinema of that moment
next to the house
collapsing in the dirt
where I needed you.
Fathom under fathoms,
that's how heavy I laid upon you.
What are you to me?
You are more than on my side,
You are the weapon on my side.
Safety off.
Rest under the shadow of my gut.
Unsentimental kissing.
A gushing reveille for strangers becoming victorious.
Walk through the valley of the 5 o'clock shadow.
Pyrokinetic honeysuckle, let's boycott the hocus pocus
and get straight to the secret . . . .
Are you the one snarling in the family photo?
Are you the one crackling voltage in the yearbook?
Then you are the pearl I steal.
Your eyes, a kaleidoscope of collide and escape.
Navigate to me by the map of fallen stars.
Love rises back to you
like an escalator fragrance.
No comments:
Post a Comment