Tarantula, by Bob Dylan

Matty lll

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Anyone read any of this? If so, what did you think.


Here is an excerpt:


Guns, the Falcon’s Mouthbook & Gashcat Unpunished
aretha/ crystal jukebox queen of hymn & him diffused in drunk transfusion would would heed sweet woundwave crippled & cry salute to oh great particular el dorado reel & ye battered personal god but she cannot she the leader of whom when ye flow, she cannot she has no back she cannot… beneath black flowery railroad fans & fig leaf shades & dogs of all nite joes, grow like arches & cures the harmonica battalions of bitter cowards, bones & bygones while what steadier louder the moans & arms of funeral landlord with one passionate kiss rehearse from dusk & climbing into the bushes with some favorite enemy ripping the postage stamps & crazy mailmen & waving all rank & familiar ambition than that itself, is needed to know that mother is not a lady… aretha with no goals, eternally single & one step soft of heaven/ let if be understood that she owns this melody along with her emotional diplomets & her earth & her musical secrets
the censor in a twelve wheel drive semi stopping in for donuts & pinching the waitress/ he likes his women raw & with syrup/ he has his mind set on becoming a famous soldier
manuscript nitemare of cut throat high & low & behold the prophesying blind allegiance to law fox, monthly cupid & the intoxicating ghosts of dogma… nay & may the boatmen in bathrobes be banished forever & anointed into the shelves of alive hell, the unimaginative sleep, repetition without change & fat sheriffs who watch for doom in the mattress.. hallaluyah & bossman of the hobos cometh & ordaining the spiritual gypsy davy camp now being infiltrated by foreign dictator, the pink FBI & the interrogating unknown failures of peacetime as holy & silver & blessed with the texture of kaleidoscope & the sandal girl… to dream of dancing pillhead virgins & wandering Apollo at the pipe organ/ unscientific ramblers & the pretty things lucky & lifting their lips & handing down looks & regards from the shoulders of adam & eve’s minstrel peekaboo…
 

William Haskins

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it is the nature of experiments that some fail. this was his go at the beat style, and it didn't suit him. dylan has plenty of gifts without it needing to.

i respect that he undertook the experiment as an intellectual and artistic challenge and was brave, or foolish, enough to share it with the world. but it never had an ounce of soul to me.
 

blacbird

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Ditto what William just said. I have a copy of Tarantula, still on my bookshelf. I found it unreadable crap, and I'm a huge devotee of Dylan's music and lyrics. The very fact that he's never tried to write another thing in this form speaks volumes. I doubt that even Bob Dylan likes this thing.

caw