Brown is leading a revolution to inject poetry, both written and spoken, with the raucous and booze-infused spirit of rock n' roll.
Scandalabraby Derrick C. Brown
Derrick Brown's long awaited new collection of poetry and prose, Scandalabra, is a book that boils with true grit Americana, sensual power and black oceanic wildness. About.com rated his newest collection 'Scandalabra' as one of the top poetry books of 2009. Written at sea aboard a fishing vessel and in the hills of Tennessee, these poems roar in six unique
Derrick Brown's long awaited new collection of poetry and prose, Scandalabra, is a book that boils with true grit Americana, sensual power and black oceanic wildness. About.com rated his newest collection 'Scandalabra' as one of the top poetry books of 2009. Written at sea aboard a fishing vessel and in the hills of Tennessee, these poems roar in six unique sections never before seen from this acclaimed writer.
- Write Bloody Publishing
- Publication date:
- Product dimensions:
- 8.50(w) x 5.50(h) x 0.51(d)
- Age Range:
- 3 Months
Read an Excerpt
Cotton in the Air
Your polished back is arched like Saint Louis.
I can see your fingers pushing into the bricks when I lift your hair to smell October drain from your neck.
You are cotton caught in the air I am unfurling laces in your body.
I move on you steady like a fleet of ships pushing ice.
I want to break it all.
Your tank top strap slips down the huh huh huh of your shoulder -
and I will not strain meaning from this.
I have to taste all of your shapes with my teeth.
I am waltzing a wrecking ball.
I am wading in the dark felt Tijuana paintings of your hair.
Molting my bed clothes,
uncoiling towards Sahara.
All I want to do is hot lust you into dead sweat.
To watch your legs, those bent sickles,
to watch them shake like poisoned wrens.
I am gnashed and dazzled.
Smother me in the exhausted thrust of your yes. . . .
wet as all exploding laundromats.
Darling, may I be the image you turn to when you are heaving alone,
burning like Halloween in Detroit?
I am breathing up your legsssssplitting at the hiding nightingale.
Drift your breasts into my mouth and I will be that doped up, spinning victrola.
La la la la la la.
I want to make love to you while you're wearing figure skates until the hardwood floors are toothpicks.
I want to kiss your throat in a dressing room with my hands bound around the slow song in your voice.
I don't care if you made that dress, hippie,
I will shred it until you look deserted.
You're as restless as a New Orleans graveyard in a storm with the coffins boiling up to the surface.
That's all this writing is. She is across from me and the soup is cooking.
I sit up all night listening to her dental records.
I will teach her of exorcism and screw the hell out of her.
I will carry her steam in my mouth.
Daydreaming of the evening of loud struggle.
Call my name - I will cascade like a suicide.
I will fall upon you like a box of fluorescent bulbs dropped from a five-story building.
I will do anything you ask. . . .
unless I have been drinking; then it is opposite day.
I can't believe you sleep through all this.
Chunks of brick in your fingernails.
Mortar on your pillow a bomb shelter sketched on your skirt.
It says "safe.
Meet the Author
Derrick Brown - former paratrooper for the 82nd Airborne, gondolier, magician, and fired weatherman (Flagstaff, AZ) - has performed at over 1500 venues and universities internationally, including The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, La Sorbonne in Paris and CBGB's in NYC. As president/captain of Write Bloody Publishing, he is dedicated to bringing American poetry into rock and roll status. He has performed with The Cold War Kids, The Flaming Lips and comedian David Cross. His work has been featured in books with Jeff Tweedy of Wilco, and Billy Collins. He lives on a boat called The Sea Section.
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