D.B.'S FAVOURITE BANDS

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ALLMAN BROTHERS

Click image to visit the Allman Brothers official website; for the Allman Brothers and the Crossroads Curse website, click here or for related music on Amazon, click here

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THE BAND

Click image to visit The Band's official website; for lyrics and guitar chords from The Band's music, click here or for related music on Amazon, click here

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PAUL BUTTERFIELD BLUES BAND

Click image to read about Paul Butterfield on the Island website; for the Paul Butterfield Blues Band Links page, click here or for related music on Amazon, click here

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PINK FLOYD

Click image to visit the official Pink Floyd website; for the Pink Floyd & Co website, click here or for related music on Amazon, click here

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THE POGUES

Click image to visit In the Wake of Medusa - the official Pogues website; for the official Shane MacGowan website, click here or for related music on Amazon, click here

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D.B.'S FAVOURITE SONGWRITERS

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TOWNES VAN ZANDT

Click image to visit the Townes Van Zandt Central website; for the Townes Van Zandt Record Collection website, click here or for related music on Amazon, click here

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JOHN HIATT

Click image to visit the official John Hiatt website; for the John Hiatt Archive site, click here or for related music on Amazon, click here

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JOHN PRINE

Click image to visit the John Prine Shrine website; for A Big, Fat Retrospective by Steve Cooper, click here or for related music on Amazon, click here

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ROGER WATERS

Click image to visit the official Roger Waters website; for the Roger Waters Online site, click here or for related music on Amazon, click here

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SHANE MCGOWAN

Click image to read the Croak of Gold interview with MacGowan on Rocky Sullivan's website; for Salon.com's profile of MacGowan, click here or for related items on Amazon, click here

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D.B.'S FAVOURITE FILMS

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FIVE EASY PIECES

Click image for a profile of the film on the Film Site website; to read Carol Eastman's script online at the Daily Script, click here or to order the film on Amazon, click here

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DR. STRANGELOVE

Click image for images and audio clips from the film on the Indelible Inc website; for a review, video and sound clips from the film on Tiger Sweat site, click here or to order the film on Amazon, click here

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SUNSET BOULEVARD

Click image to visit the Sunset Boulevard Online Tribute site; for a profile of the film on Eskimo.com, click here or to order the film on Amazon, click here

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SAVE THE TIGER

Click image to read about the film on the New York Times website; for a profile of the film's star, Jack Lemmon in an Oscar-winning performace on the Film Bug site, click here or to order the film on Amazon, click here

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MIDNIGHT COWBOY

Click image to visit the original Midnight Cowboy site; to read Waldo Salt's screenplay for the film on the Screenplays for You website, click here or to order the film on Amazon, click here

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PARIS, TEXAS

Click image to read about the film on director, Wim Wenders official website; for the Paris, Texas fansite, click here or to order the film on Amazon, click here

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TREASURE OF THE SIERRA MADRE

Click image for a profile of the film on the Chicago Sun Times website; to read about the film on the Film Site website, click here or to order the film on Amazon, click here

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MIDNIGHT EXPRESS

Click image for a profile of the film on the Outrate website; to read Oliver Stone's script for the film on the Daily Script website, click here or to order the film on Amazon, click here

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GRAPES OF WRATH

Click image for a profile and sound clips from the film on the Top 100 Movie Lists website; for a great selection of links relating to the film and the book on the Research Guide for Students site, click here or to order the film on Amazon, click here

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THE SWIMMER

Click image for a profile and links relating to the film on the Othyr World site; to read about John Cheever's original story, 'The Swimmer' on the Salon.com site, click here or to order the film on Amazon, click here

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D.B.'S FAVOURITE WRITERS

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ANTON CHEKHOV

Click image for a biography of Chekhov and related links on the Imagi-Nation website; for a profile of Chekhov and related links on the NCW website, click here or for related books on Amazon, click here

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RAYMOND CARVER

Click image to visit Phil Carson's Raymond Carver Page, including bibliography and links; for two interviews with Carver on the Prose as Architecture site, click here or to view his books on Amazon, click here

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RICHARD YATES

Click image to visit A Website for Richard Yates; for the article, 'The Lost World of Richard Yates' on the Boston Review website, click here or for related books on Amazon, click here

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J.D. SALINGER

Click image for a biography of Salinger and related links on Levity.com; for the Salinger.org site, click here or to view his books on Amazon, click here

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ANDRE DUBUS

Click image to read the article, 'Remembering Andre Dubus' on Salon.com; for an interview with Dubus on the Identity Theory website, click here or for related books on Amazon, click here

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DENIS JOHNSON

Click image for the feature, 'Denis Johnson's Second Stage' on the New York Metro site; for Andrea Clark's interview with Johnson on the San Francisco Reader site, click here or to view his books on Amazon, click here
(Photo credit: Michael Lavine)

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WALKER PERCY

Click image to visit the Walker Percy Project website; for Marion Montgomery's essay, 'Walker Percy and the Christian Scandal' on the First Things website, click here or for related books on Amazon, click here

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HART CRANE

Click image for biography, bibliography and related links on the Kobe University website; for a selection of writing by Crane on the Modern American Poetry website, click here or for related books on Amazon, click here

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WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS

Click image for a wide selection of links relating to Williams on the Modern American Poetry website; for a biography, bibliography and selection links relating to Williams on the Poetry Exhibits website, click here or for related books on Amazon, click here

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LANGSTON HUGHES

Click image for a profile of Langston Hughes on the Red Hot Jazz site; for a biography, bibliography and a great selection of Hughes-related links on the Poetry Exhibits site, click here or for related books on Amazon, click here

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'THE LEGEND'

barroom is smoky
he swears that he knows me
i lie, say “no way”
& move to a corner booth

where I sit & stare
into my bottle
like a gypsy fortune teller
trying to place the face…

high school badass
loved to fight
ate glass for breakfast
& pissed razor blades

drink you under the table
laughing too loud
forever looking
to make trouble his own

slow dancing
with the wrong woman
in the wrong bar
on the wrong side of town

around him, you were always
out on a limb -
slipping toward a night
in the drunk tank

hell yeah
numero uno
small-town desperado
a fucking local legend…

now -
a blast from the past
sunset in his eyes
bravado, decades gone

hard-earned stories
boring the hell
out of a young lady
hanging at the bar

clutching a baby-blue
cellphone,
like she’s waiting on a call
from another time zone…

'STREET SOLDIERS'

last night,
i saw you walk
out of the
moon-driven dark

gray beret
crazy bluebird tattoo
across your neck
Tu Do street, 1968

changed, but somehow
still the same
you looked happy
to be alive again

as if an angel
had rolled back
the stone
from the alley of the lost

& pulled you out
clean –

seeing your face,
triggered a sadness
i couldn’t locate -
like an address book

with a missing page
yesterday’s names
& places
lost forever

but i’m still here
covering your tracks
forever in love
with the suffering

addicted to the weakness -
relaxed by the fact
of never having to be
strong again

so i wasn’t ashamed
when you walked by
pretending
not to know me

i just re-aimed
my dead eyes to a place
over your left shoulder,
held out my hand

& asked if you could buy
an old “soldier of the street”
a bottle –
to help cheat the cold

'MARKERS'

I.

pondering
the inscrutable
implications
of a normal life

a life of crimes
not committed -

haunted
by the presence
of some lost,
half-forgotten,

not-really-expected
possibility -

wondering why,
in this thriving
world, where even
the waitress

has season tickets
to the symphony
everyone should be
so fucking miserable

II.

on the sofa,
book in hand
a sudden impulse
to tell my wife

about myself -
after ten years,
she must have
forgotten a lot

her cell-phone
rings, she answers,
i forget why
i wanted to do this

III.

tired of
living her life
by someone
else’s motives

tired of
measuring her
days by someone
else’s time

me wondering,
if the past
can be erased by
simply moving forward -

out my window,
across the river,
a cemetery;

white markers
on a green slope -

i try to comprehend
a broken marriage
but for some reason,

all I can think about
are white wedges
in a graveyard

'FOREVER SEVENTEEN'

on parade
in the old man’s
coupe deville
past the neon arcades

& curb service joints
strewn like endless options
along the friday-night
boulevard

an unchained soul,
liberated by a slick v8,
& a dollars worth
of high-test –
25 cents a goddamn gallon...

singing along
with the car radio;
the bobby fuller four –
“i fought the law, & the law won”

knowing if things get slow
there’s an all-night
pool game down
at the crossroads

a grudge match --
“fountain inn red” versus
the “left hand of god” --
jimmy hodges

no cover charge…

or i could
just pack it in,
head home & watch
the twilight zone

the one where
gig young walks
back in time
to his old home town

& gets the bum’s rush
from his own father…

yeah, just another
friday night
no hurry, no worry
like a rolling stone --

back when satisfaction
was a honky tonk
woman -- & time
was on my side…

'BROTHERS'

bus station
in new orleans,
holding a cup of coffee
with both hands

wearing a frayed
black beret pulled
low over a matted
gray ponytail

he contemplates
his hazy reflection
in the grimy mirror
behind the counter

one of those
forgotten people,
living a half-life,
just beyond anybody’s caring

two stools down,
i’m indirectly
studying this guy
in the mirror
when suddenly
he catches my reflection -

now my eyes are his,
& his eyes are mine

the same empty stare
of thirty five years,
& a thousand yards
of un-crossable ground…

without turning his head,
& just loud enough
for me to hear
he whispers, “it ain’t easy…”

i know my part
& reply, “there it is…”

& he quietly echoes,
the timeless
marine corps closing line,
“there it forever & fucking well is…”

between two old brothers,
who’ve already heard
way too many people
talking the same tired shit -

there’s no need
for further conversation…

'THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED'

i’ve sat through
wagner’s “tristan & isolde”

i’ve heard schoenberg
try to out-wagner wagner
in “transfigured night”

i’ve listened to webern’s
“symphony for chamber orchestra”
in which sound is pulverized
into luminous dust

one enlightening evening,
i watched john cage
cram enough junk into
the back of a grand piano

to make a pontiac bonneville;

just so he could explore
the outer frontiers
of musical pointlessness

but my symphony tickets
went on ebay, the night
a well-dressed piano soloist
walked on stage & executed
a piece entitled 4’ 33”...

as the audience
watched & waited,
this guy sat silently
at the keyboard
for 4 minutes & 33 seconds,
stood up, bowed & departed

creating the first ever
___musical vacuum
in the local concert hall…

leaving me wondering -

if a concert pianist is seated
at a steinway -
alone in the middle of a forest
& a mammoth oak tree
crashes down
on his hollow crown…..

does it make a sound?

& if it does,
could you,
would you - have the balls
to call it music?

© D.B. Cox

'HESHU'

--- “On October 12, 2002, Heshu Yones, a sixteen-year old Iraqi Kurd who was planning to run away from her family home in London had her throat cut by her father, because he believed she was dating a non-muslim and had become too westernized”

from Harper’s Magazine

_________
and when he had slaughtered
his wayward, western daughter,
the one he could not comprehend,
him crazy - out of control,
like some blind and willful beast.

when his anger was spent,
and the silent room began
to whisper its accusations.

what then?

did he scream out her name?

did he bend to touch
her perfect face, and gaze
into staring, black eyes?

did his blood-stained fingers
trace the long, dark
waterfall of her hair
to where it flowed
into that cruel, red river
just below her throat?

did he now, in utter despair
of his own fatal vision,
turn the blade on himself
and write a fitting end to this
pathetic, one-act play?

or?

did he coldly
lay the knife
on the killing floor,
place a call,
and wait -


© D.B. Cox
Reproduced with permission

'CHET BAKER WORE KHAKIS'

posed on stage:
dark suit,
trumpet in his hand,
stark & glassy,
vaguely sinister,
a beautiful face
with a smile
as mysterious as
the mona lisa’s -

a film-noir scene,
come to life

playing a kind of
jazz-haiku, with
an ache in his tone
that hints at the dark
secrets hidden behind
his distant stare

each phrase, suspended in air,
like a trail of cigarette smoke:
“my funny valentine”,
“this time the dream’s on me” -

small truths, falling
from the bell of his horn
like cool indigo,

& the place he sang from
was utterly untouchable -
like a child singing
to himself, as he plays alone,

like the sound of
solitude for sale…

nobody knows
why he climbed
inside the darkness
of his own soul -

stumbling down
street after mad street,
determined to find
the closest point of departure

accommodating
all the people
who wanted to see him
crash & burn -

all those good-time,
i-told-you-so brothers,
who can now smile,
as they take their last,
righteous shots

at the “golden boy,”
the “great white hope”
of jazz trumpet -

a jazz icon,
ultimately reduced
to a photo
in a meaningless,
madison avenue (GAP)
sales campaign –

“chet baker wore khakis”…

'PASSING FOR BLUE'
For D.N.K

My best friend
died last year,
in a 24-hour store -
shot by some shaky kid

when he walked
in on a 32 dollar holdup
to buy a pack
of Marlboros.

He was a blues-man.

He knew more
about Robert Johnson
and Tampa Red
than Amiri Baraka - or Leroi Jones.

He used up most of his time,
and all of his options
preaching to the blue
multitudes, jammed

into the cheap neon
playgrounds, along
the whore-haunted streets
of late-night Memphis;

where no accusing eyes
ever questioned the
heartfelt disguise, he wore
like an invisible man.

And on the day
his ashes were
tossed toward
the rain-polished sky,

there were no
sad fans weeping,
no sanctifying poetry
from Langston Hughes,

just a southbound
breeze to ride on,
for the white boy
passing for blue.

© D.B. Cox

'WHERE DO THEY ALL COME FROM'

“Then this morning I went to the bookstore and bought The Catcher in the Rye. I’m sure the large part of me is Holden Caulfield, who is the main person in the book. The small part of me must be the Devil.”

Mark David Chapman
_________
He lies, face-up, on the floor
of a hotel room he can’t afford.
His eyes are closed. On his chest,
a closed paperback moves slowly up & down – marking time.

The plan is clear.
Everything he wants to say,
reduced to a
single blinding point.

A warning message to false prophets.
A Technicolor caution sign
to purveyors of empty noise,
& meaningless bullshit.

A .38 special delivery
from a real nowhere man,
to the used-up hero
who haunts Dakota halls,

& hides behind elegant walls,
that cannot save him.
Lost to himself, hopelessly slipping
into some half-assed parody…

He opens his eyes & checks his watch.
Almost time to rock & roll,
lock & load,
cross the street, & disappear

into the faceless
New York hum –

“All the lonely people,
where do they all come from?”


© D.B. Cox
Reproduced with permission

'JACO'

distant sirens
break like terrible news

the world’s greatest
bass player lies
bleeding
in the gutter;
twisted, like a broken bird,

dying, in a dirty,
half-lit, southern street...
desperate fingers
reaching for the no one
who waits to save him

the hold, the dark
had on him,
finally smashed away
by some small-town,
inconsequential badass;

& where was
the voice
in the crowd
calling for mercy -

were they all
tongue-tied
& terrified -

or maybe
they were all
just enjoying
the show

the sad truth is --

in the end,
jaco strayed,
like a lost pilgrim,
into a pack of
ravenous wolves

& talent, that bright
currency with which
he had always
bought forgiveness -

was as worthless
as a sweet prayer
to jesus


© D.B. Cox
Reproduced with permission

'AMERICAN BUSINESS CARD'

the pitchless hum
of an idling greyhound
combines with the suffocating
fumes of diesel fuel
to soak the night air
with noisy poison

a skinny panhandler,
wearing a kid’s
spiderman tee-shirt,
sits crumpled, like lost luggage,
just outside the brownsville
bus depot

hard times & places
chiseled
across his face
like engravings
on a tombstone

two hollow eyes,
like piss-holes
in the snow,
stare blankly
at the casual caravan

of human traffic
as it flows along
with its totally
assured sense
of destination

there’s a wrinkled
square of cardboard
at his side -
a kind of faded-brown,
contemporary

american business card
with the fractured
graffitti,
“out of work”,
scrawled across the front

one look at this guy
& you know he’s
done for - & knows it -

& yet, his accusing eyes glare at me,
as if i could somehow save him

what’s going on here

can’t someone help this man

right now,
before this humiliation
goes on any longer

somebody has to put things right

is there no one
who can put an end
to this hopeless unraveling -

________________________

the pitchless hum
of an idling greyhound………………


© D.B. Cox
Reproduced with permission

'BIRD ON THE WING'

you traded in
your cabaret card
for somebody’s
idea of paradise

& now -
you’re standing
outside a club on
52nd street,

the rain, beating
a philly-joe solo
on the brim of
your fedora

can’t even get
your fucking foot
in the front door
of the jazz joint
they named for you –
bird, the man
who could glide over
chorus after chorus

smooth, sure, & fast
as your little sister’s
ass, & never run
out of things to say

bird, “liberator of paris,”
“king of bebop” -
gets another royal
welcome home

so, what now -

the jazz clubs
are being replaced,
one-by-one,
with strip dives

& they’re playing
rock & roll
over at the
paramount

claiming, bop’s
just an outline
of the past,
a graveyard ghost…

__________________

but you can
come with me -
if you wanna go
to kansas city

a place where you
can play without
a goddam license
& you won’t have to be

charlie parker with strings;

you can be free -

a bird-on-the-wing...


© D.B. Cox
Reproduced with permission

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