Horton Deakins's Blog, page 8

The Raving (verse 7)

Pried open the paint-sealed shutter, whores below flirt in the gutter,

From the fire escape stepped a black-clad dude with a sack from the bodega store;

No sound when moving made he; now says he needs a church key;

Just like he owned the place, he guarded my apartment door—

Said he came up from Dallas, keeping watch at my door—

Grabbed a chair and sat, and nothing more.

The Raving (verse 6)

Glad the toilet was so near, I puked my guts up out of fear,

And in a heartbeat came more capping, sounding like a .44.

“C’mon I said, “that can’t be nothing but a car backfiring;

Some gangsta be a hotwire trying, I cry out to El Señor—

Another sip of liquid courage, now protect me El Señor;—

I pray it’s a car and nothing more!”

The Raving (verse 5)

Down the long dark hallway, watching, stood there in a daze, trembling,

It ain’t nothing, I’m just dreaming, but they’s never dreams like this before;

But silence is as silence does, I’m tellin’ you I had no buzz,

And the only word that came my way was just a vapor, “A war?”

I mouthed it out, and an echo shot back to me, “A war!”—

Tha’s it — nothing more.

The Raving (verse 4)

Figured I’d go all out; had to give a shout out,

“Dude,” I said, “or Girlfriend, I was about to take a snore;

Over all the rapping, I heard you out there capping,

That’s not exactly tapping, tapping on my apartment door,

Every cat in this block heard you”—here I peeked outside the door;—

Cold black night and nothing more.

Masterfully macabre metaphors

I was first drawn to Entanglement because of the connection of the title to quantum physics. I had no idea what I was getting into, but that is because this story is unique. To describe it as “fanciful” would be an understatement, but it is a wonderful blend of reality and the supernatural, with a dose of science thrown in for good measure.

Maya Panika is master of the macabre metaphor, as is evident in the following line:

“… scared almost witless, waiting for the cold, clammy, disembodied hand of cliché to come out of the fog and grab me.”

I thoroughly enjoyed this well-written book. Ms. Panika is clearly a professional when it comes to writing, and if you read this book you may find yourself wanting your own “secret silent place.

The Raving (Verse 3)

And the smoke of marijuana filled the room of some kid’s mama

Chill me—spill my dollar beer I just bought at the store;

Some old man, his kid he’s beatin’ while curses he’s repeatin’,

“I’m slidin’ the new chain into the lock on my apartment door—

Got me a brand new chain for the lock on my apartment door;—

Got no money for nothin’ more.”

The Raving (part 2)

Yes, I’ll always remember it was the third of September;

I saw a gangsta dismembered, dying on the barroom floor.

I was there to try to borrow the keys to Alejandro’s carro

“Is he dead?” I asked. Sí, claro—tomorrow there will be a war—

These pendejos got it coming and there’s gonna be a war—

We’ll put them down for evermore.

The Raving

Once upon a whiskey bourbon, while I watched my ice a-meltin’,

Stacks of pizza boxes littering the floor—

While the dog, her water lapping, suddenly there came a capping,

In the middle of 50 Cent rapping, rapping words that I abhor—

“‘Tis some gangbanger,” I muttered, “capping just outside my door—

Only this and nothing more.

How I know who be callin’ my cell phone

Three Rings for Elvis, king of “Pardon me while I touch the sky,”

Seven for the slum lord down the hall gettin’ stoned,

Nine for Mortimer when his hair need a dye,

One for the drug lord sittin’ on his throne,

In the Land called Motor City where the gangstas die.

One Ring school dem all, one ring to pop them,

One Ring gonna bring dem all down and in the darkness stop them

In the Land called Motor City where the gangstas die.

Lucy posing in the kitchen — no clothes