Anne Rice
for A.H.
books and books of horror bull
for someone, not me, to read
other things to fill up my senses
how obsessed she must be with this subject
with these thoughts
does she, like Stephen King, drink perfume,
other things, anything
to fuel her imagination
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
11:38 p.m. 13.08.09
for A.H.
books and books of horror bull
for someone, not me, to read
other things to fill up my senses
how obsessed she must be with this subject
with these thoughts
does she, like Stephen King, drink perfume,
other things, anything
to fuel her imagination
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
11:38 p.m. 13.08.09
posted by Obie Quiet at 12:26 AM
3 Comments:
I have exhausted much breath trying to defend the many merits of Anne Rice (she who birthed in me my love for New Orleans, I visit her house every time I go there).
If I had to offer a suggestion for her fuel, I would say she drinks up souls. Suffice to say I am completely entrenched in her and her world.
A
Whenever I think of New Orleans and literature, rather than music or rather than where the Mississippi empties into the Gulf of Mexico, I think of John Kennedy Toole and his Confederacy of Dunces, one of the most captivating books I have ever read.
Here I am though assessing Anne Rice, as it were, without knowing her work or her at all.
My poem is a reaction to a first encounter, and what an encounter: an interview with Charlie Rose with faulty audio.
I had to place one of my computer's two speakers right up against my ear.
There was a heap of her books, in hard back, upon Charlie Rose's round table. One heap of them became another heap of them as he read out their titles, all to do with horror.
The idea of horror bull came to mind. I wanted to contain this adjective transformed into an adjective and a noun in a poem. I built my poem around this sliver of an idea.
How amazed I was to see that this has gotten a response.
How wonderful to discover that this defender of Anne Rice is one of the prettiest girl in the world, whom I've noticed only recently, has been visiting Cuba, one of my favorite places, and sipping Mojitos which I've tried but found are too strong for me.
Horror, I've determined also, is too strong for me. I have even less to do with horror film or the literature of horror than I have to do with country music. A matter ultimately of a choice of culture.
I must get to know this author better though. I owe her that and I owe it to myself. And your respect and love for her, AH, is high recommendation in deed.
I promise therefore to revisit Anne Rice as well as New Orleans which I've visited only once, a long time before Katrina.
Perspective can make anything supportable, and often, interesting.
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