Conundrums but hope.
Abstraction may be the only way to make sense of it all. Enjoy these abstract photos
To my mind, playing around with fairy tales is therefore a perfectly logical way to tackle that illusive concept of The American Dream, and that is exactly what Coover does in the first of these two novellas.
Briar Rose is a take on Sleeping Beauty, and although on the surface seemingly 'all about sex' in classic Freudian mode- many of the metaphors are laden with sexual references- it is actually much more than that. Everything in it is a dream, but that only successfully helps one to get into the mind of the dreamer, and it is full of wider meaning. Sleeping Beauty for example dreams of being defiled by her own knight's and castle keepers....a comment on the exploitation by Corporate Capitalism of us all, in the guise of it being in service to us, anyone?
life through music sketch
a life in music
plonk a world out of a keyboard
surf emotion through a keypad
not for the stars but
a sod of earth
find a musical scale
on which to weigh
your ounce of blood
and so you come to me like I’m the doctor
oh yes your dispenser of comfort services
your veritable protector of the lame and there
as if the palm trees are offering you a personal service
a service of shade specifically designed for you
you make no bones
that all the city roads were built for you oh yes
to carry you my way on hyper-heated pavements cast with exclusive carriage rights
for your inflated, corrupted heart oh yes said without rancour
two skipped eye lash flickers the last Days of Succour
no irony utter candour take this not that:
Me: mad flash wheeled dog weed euro-trash.
You: Texan Rose electrolyzed chrome neon pink
paint job galvanization anti-rust guarantee
once we sat rotating on a carousel in a car shaped like a tea cup oh yes
a hand picked rose Sung yellow sheet metal small white daisies templated
on thin curved steel from Allentown PA a nice battered riveted plate
a long way from east coast cloud and grime and we are next to a spinning,
The simple velocity was enough to bind me to you, oh yes
simple times convex emotions whirling us in some
Carthusian orbit observe
Me: The Denialist a lost uncertain superhero looking for a
comic strip to haunt.
You: the wanton hedonist
a safe house
a warming glass perhaps oh yes
of Merlot to wash down the pills
you come to me
the weave and stagger of a saxophone thick in the hot desert air straight out
of The Mojave
and you hang on every note whilst still fingering your keys
and I saw you there in
The Salamander sat at the bar,
smooth legs and denim spray on shorts men transfixed by a red wet look bra top
with dykes flitting at your elbows wishing plotting
you laughing oh yes glittering giggles aloof but wanton snickerings
full on lips stretched tight
over expensive teeth that got you that part, you know the one oh yes that one
in that TV mini-series a big break from the skin flicks in beach houses
on Hermosa Beach and villas hired by the hour in
Santa Barbara and lock-ups over in Watts
I knew of all that but you knew you could rely on me to keep it quiet
and oh yes I’m watching you now with my lazy eye
as you stagger-swagger with diabolical intent to soul- steal
from the already sad and depleted to filch and chew indolent senses
and why not oh yes
still your erstwhile dispenser of remedies for the maladies
clawing at your brain
me oh yes all shiny spic-and-span paint on new world grin learned well
from knowing colonialists slapped on with skill across old world lips given extra dimensional interest by European louche and you
dizzying your senses bug glass black eyes
telling me you hate daylight and bougainvillea and
garden lions you need me to shroud you and
make the sun go away maybe a few weeks in
the mountains a timber lodge play acting at being
a nice husband and wife with regular jobs
shop in Big Bear City remember East Cinderella Drive?
Perhaps pretend we are out of Fort Smith AR
or is that too parochial maybemaybemaybe who knows
but it’s not no way and is it not obtuse to be wondering if maybe
perhaps somehow there’s many a million like us right now ensnared deep within this
No doubt oh yes on street light aluminum barbs and concrete pegs and
razor sharp roadsign devices designed to extract contrition oh yes
in a city that wouldn’t be here if not for a fantastic thirst
so go ahead return home where all your drugged trajectories end
like a badly fused bomb dropped on expectant
civilian populations oh come nuclear heat please do come
when is it going to be me when is it going to be me
Throw your keys on the kitchen counter.
Demand OJ laced with Smirnoff.
Bark an enquiry about where the fuck is your Halston bikini.
Coming to me after a forty-hour AWOL jag
as if I’m the doctor your own little book of
calm a good man in a storm and
Spilled purse by a burnt out toaster next to
an erratic splay of over-ripened bananas:
cellphone credit cards Rizlas ancient battered
tin of grass packet of Moroccan small red box
of E’s condoms all of your own remedies you don’t need
me fuck me study the storm clouds rolling in off of the Pacific oh yes
your wish of vanquished sunlight to be granted
by dancing electric weather so:
go pick your keys up from the driveway I haven’t made it hard
for you I
haven’t thrown them
into the bougainvillea for example and I have emptied your
purse in the Roadster on the passenger seat
I haven’t made a mess so:
drink your screwdriver then cruise where ever you wish,
smoke weed on Sunset seeing multiple lanes
and shimmering bars and
just get out of here
not even the allure of those tight
negligible hot pants can make me forgive
not anymore just get out of here
and this time stay away stay distant find another cosmic state
get lost in Paris paint in Bruges get your feet tattooed in
Casablanca dive into Venetian canals late at night bemuse
the Caraberieri just go your own way erase me from digital awareness
coming to me,
I’m the doctor.
There’s a demon on my shoulder
and I tell It to fuck off quite a lot
but it stays there, like a blemish
in some faded movie. I am aware
now that its strength lies not in a
specific geographical location,
but in its mental hold; it is like
an old friend who keeps calling
and nagging and you oblige and
do as It says, but screw up and
end up in a world you do want
to be in.
And you curse.
And you swear.
Swear about self-will,
but know- come the call- you
will do it again.
And other controls...
Like the mind zaps, you know, like:
‘I manage You. Only I can
direct You in What To Do.’
And 99% of the time it’s right. It wins.
Then It laughs.
And then it struts along my shoulder
doing some bizarre disco dance
And then it crouches and hisses
And once again, I curse politely
And I say:
‘but we have no contract; I want to
play no more part in the continuance
of this circumstance.’
And then of course the cackles grow
to crackles of spit and flame. I am
told I do not have the proclivity
my angel is skewered, manacled
with industrial chains and the demon
is laughing in her face:
on the edge of hell in sweat,
I don’t give a shit.
I do not care anymore for Its hollow
It is in error, it has wrong stepped.
It’s time is up.
One day soon.
And no, really, I won’t gloat when
the bastard reaches Its nemesis...
or maybe...its nadir...
…I am brandishing my shiny
new chain cutters, the first step.
And for one thing I can be sure, when
It’s own fire is turned upon It, I sure
won’t be reaching for
the fire extinguisher.