Jeremy Prynne’s reading of “Cocaine” makes Wieners’s poem sound like the tradition it’s so anxious to get into. In Wieners’s reading, it’s anxiety that drives the situation—the anxiety to be a poem overlaps with the desire to hold an unloving lover. The poet might get the one—a “real” poem—but never the other: poetry as compensatory cocaine.
Prynne reads like the dealer whispering yes you can have your coke and eat it, too. It’s like listening to that animating tension of American lit—to out-English the English—played in reverse for secret messages. Thanks to Steve Evans for bringing them together.
1 week ago
1 comment:
I'm just happy when I don't have to smell rotten meat when I walk around, except I do smell it alot.
Even if road kill is hidden, I can smell it. Instead of infinite desire, how about infinitely annoying?
wv: motheu
seems to combine
mothra
walter matthau
and mother
perfect!
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