Grapes, Marcus J.

Seven Is A Frozen Number

New Orleans, LA: Aphrodisia Press, 1968. Second Edition. Softcover in Stiff Wrappers. Signed by Marcus J. Grapes “Marcus J. Grapes has never read a poem in his life. He was born in a sunset & fell to earth like a smoothly flaming red yoke but as he fell nobody saw him and all through his twenty-some-odd years nobody has seen him except himself. It is this that he knows best: himself & the world he has fallen into, but he has not been spoiled by it, suckered in by any of its con games; yet, by some quirk of fate, he has suffered as any human being has. All these things become ingredients in his poetry & whether this sounds like too much mystical bullcrap or not this is about the best way to describe Grapes’ writing that I have yet to find. When he writes about song it is song as a bird would know song. When he writes of loneliness it is loneliness as a man unseen by anybody would know loneliness. And when he writes of sunsets it is a sunset as only a man born in one would know them” (Douglas Blazek, from Introduction).“There is a supreme and eloquent strength in Grapes,” writes the great poet-publisher-literary outlaw Douglas Blazek in his introduction to “Seven is a Frozen Number,” the second work by one Marcus J. Grapes – unknown to us prior to our curation of this item. Two things are clear immediately: Grapes was a precocious talent, and this book – his second full-length production and third published work, overall – has enormous production value for a ramshackle underground mimeo. Interspersed throughout the work are drawings by the poet, -- many of which are accompanied by short poetic jottings – and blank leaves of tri-tone, colored construction paper with a gorgeous gradient running from topmost fine-edge to bottom. Added to all of this is a manuscript poem affixed to recto of FFEP (punctuated by a signature) and also a postcard (featuring a work by an unknown artist that reminds this writer of Ralph Steadman’s hunchback deformities [e.g., his ‘Whiskey Gentry’]. The manuscript poem [written in purple pen ink], in full: “the difference / between a martyr / and a fool / is a difference / between choosing wrong / and waiting a / little longer / to die.” Grapes’ signature, in red pen ink, reads: “marcus j. grapes.” A curious (and curiously inviting!) work from the late-1960s that welcomes revaluation of Grapes and his work. Softcover in stiff wrappers: “Second Edition of 500 Copies, November, 1968,” per colophon. In strong Very Good condition with only moderate-to-enunciated shelf-wear, bumping, horizontal creasing & light chipping to fine-edges & corners of front, back covers & spine-edge; similarly moderate-to-enunciated rubbing to front, back covers of same at varying locales; a few scattered exhibits of browning & spotting throughout; interior pristine. Very Good. [Item #5618]

Price: $15.00