Dragonfly's Poetry & Prolixity: February 2021

Sunday, February 28, 2021

Movie & Music Recommendations

‘Dance, Rascal Dance’ by The Bleachers

from the soundtrack of “Hello, My Name is Doris”.

This is a hilarious and touching movie (on Amazon Prime) that made me laugh and feel good. Age is only a number as Doris so admirably exemplifies.

DANCE, RASCAL DANCE

By The Bleachers

Dance like you’re on fire
Roll down the window to your love
I got a strange desire
To move with you, move with you
Give you a piece of my love

Hold on, take me higher
Make me bolder oh
C'mon through this fire
Yeah we don’t get older oh
Dance rascal dance

Like you’re on fire
Roll down the window to your love
Gimme all your strange desires
C'mon move with me, move with me
Give me a piece of your love

Hold on, take me higher
Make me bolder oh
C'mon through this fire
Yeah we don’t get older oh
Dance rascal dance

I move my feet
I grab your heart
I take your hand
We play apart
Our bad desires
Our restless souls
Take my heart
Take control
2x

Hold on, take me higher
Make me bolder oh
C'mon through this fire
Yeah we don’t get older oh
Dance rascal dance

~ Jack Antonoff

Sunday, February 14, 2021

Container by Fiona Apple

I was screaming into the canyon
At the moment of my death
The echo I created
Outlasted my last breath

My voice it made an avalanche
And buried a man I never knew
And when he died his widowed bride
Met your daddy and they made you

I have only one thing to do and that's
Be the wave that I am and then
Sink back into the ocean
I have only one thing to do and that's
Be the wave that I am and then
Sink back into the ocean
I have only one thing to do and that's
Be the wave that I am and then
Sink back into the ocean

Sink back into the o-
Sink back into the ocean
Sink back into the o-
Sink back into the ocean
Sink back into the ocean

I Love Lorrie Moore!!

“You’re not a poetess, I hope,” said the English geologist next to her. “We had a poetess here last month, and things got a bit dodgy here for the rest of us.”

“Really.” After the soup, there was risotto with squid ink.

“Yes. She kept referring to insects as ‘God’s typos’ and then she kept us all after dinner one evening so she could read from her poems, which seemed to consist primarily of the repeating line ‘the hairy kiwi of his balls.’”

From: “Birds of America” by Lorrie Moore, page 266, ‘Terrific Mother’

Miranda July's Best Book:

"Do you have doubts about life? Are you unsure if it is worth the trouble? Look at the sky: that is for you. Look at each person's face as you pass on the street: those faces are for you. And the street itself, and the ground under the street, and the ball of fire underneath the ground: all these things are for you. They are as much for you as they are for other people. Remember this when you wake up in the morning and think you have nothing. Stand up and face the east. Now praise the sky and praise the light within each person under the sky. It's okay to be unsure. But praise, praise, praise." From: "No One Belongs Here More Than You Stories by Miranda July", Page 11

A Dreamy, Drug of a Book

"The minute you land in New Orleans, something wet and dark leaps on you and starts humping you like a swamp dog in heat, and the only way to get that aspect of New Orleans off you is to eat it off. That means beignets and crayfish bisque and jambalaya, it means shrimp remoulade, pecan pie and red beans with rice, it means elegant pompano au papillote, funky file z'herbes, and raw oysters by the dozen, it means grillades for breakfast, a po' boy with chowchow at bedtime, and tubs of gumbo in between. It is not unusual for a visitor to the city to gain fifteen pounds in a week---yet the alternative is a whole lot worse. If you don't eat night and day, if you don't constantly funnel the indigenous flavors into your bloodstream, then the mystery beast will go right on humping you, and you will feel its sordid presence rubbing against you long after you have left town." ~Tom Robbins, "Jitterbug Perfume", page 240