I Love You Is Back 2006
  • I Love You Is Back 2006
  • I Love You Is Back 2006

I Love You Is Back 2006

by Derrick C. Brown
     
 

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I Love You Is Back is the second collection of work from this internationally celebrated poet, spanning 2004-2006. It includes such popular works such as 'The Victory Explosions,” "All Distortion, All the Time,” "St. Marks,” and "The Last Poem about Anne Sexton.”See more details below

Overview

I Love You Is Back is the second collection of work from this internationally celebrated poet, spanning 2004-2006. It includes such popular works such as 'The Victory Explosions,” "All Distortion, All the Time,” "St. Marks,” and "The Last Poem about Anne Sexton.”

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
I love Derrick Brown for the surprise of one word waking up next to another. One moment tender, funny or romantic, the next, visceral, ironic and revelatory - here is the full chaos of life. An amazing talent. -Janet Fitch, Author of White Oleander

A wit as sharp as Sedaris, a sensibility as poignant as Sexton, Brown manages to blur the lines between poet and cult writer with remarkable ease and grace.
- Anthem Magazine

Derrick Brown is one of the greatest contemporary poets. Done. I always keep him on my radar.
-Sage Francis, Hip-Hop Artist

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9780978998912
Publisher:
Write Bloody Publishing
Publication date:
06/28/2006
Pages:
112
Sales rank:
721,565
Product dimensions:
9.00(w) x 6.00(h) x 0.27(d)
Age Range:
11 Years

Read an Excerpt

All Distortion, All the Time

Someone plug my lungs back into the guitar amps!
I want to live on
All distortion, all the time.

Aren't you sick of being appraised as just wholesale?
Aren't you sick of sailing on listing ships?
Aren't you weary from playing cellos with ex-lover's bones?

I want the butterfly brigade to grant me a year with no stomach drama.
I want a piano that will not warp outdoors when the rain demands slow dancing.

I want to skew the difference between Tai Chi and Chai tea,
and end up drinking a tall glass of your graceful force.
I want to lick my hands after I touch someone that has just become razzle dazzled by tomorrow's oncoming lightning.
I want birds to come close enough to hear them speak Aviation Spanish.

"Abierto! Abierto!”

I want your record collection in my throat,
and my thumb in the electric ass of the all night jukebox.

I want my shoulder blades mounted in the museum of the most fantastic knives.

I want church in a bar. I want to pass out and hear you say Amen.
I want a skeleton night light in the closet.
I want your wow in my now so we become NWOW.
I want the light in your attic to shine down to where the sidewalk ends.
I want free shit to not cost anything. That'd be nice.
I want you to feel like a disco ball of fish hooks so you can hang on my words and I can spin in your small miracles of light.

I want my kitchen to be a Brazilian dance floor with a pot of your sweat in the oven and a fridge stocked with booty lust.

I want your silver muscles cut into a quilt. Let me sleep under your strength.
I want more pony lamps. No reason.

I want to smell everything.
I want to remember that the sky is so gorgeously large,
I feel stranded beneath it.

When I gasp beneath it,
I only want to gasp for more.

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