music        news/events        bio        contact        recordings Corso Songs 1990 soprano piano doublebass  duration 11' SCORE Last Night I Drove a Car—A Dream The Mad Yak I Gave Away . . . Transformation & Escape TEXTS Last Night I Drove a Car—A Dream Last night I drove a car not knowing how to drive not owning a car I drove and knocked down people I loved . . . went 120 through one town.  I stopped at Hedgeville and slept in the back seat . . . excited about my new life.  The Mad Yak I am watching them churn the last milk they'll ever get from me. They are waiting for me to die; They want to make buttons out of my bones.  Where are my sisters and brothers? That tall monk there, loading my uncle, he has a new cap. And that idiot student of his—  I never saw that muffler before. Poor uncle, he lets them load him. How sad he is, how tired! I wonder what they'll do with his bones? And that beautiful tail! How many shoelaces will they make of that!  I Gave Away . . . I gave away the sky along with all the stars planets moons and as well the clouds and winds and weather the formations of planes, the migrations of birds . . . “No way!” screamed the trees, “Birds are ours when not in transit; you can't give it!” So I gave away the trees and the ground they inhabit and all such things as grow & crawl upon it  “Hold on there!” tidaled the seas,  “Shores are ours, trees for ships for ship yards, ours! you can't give it!” So I gave away the seas and all things that swim them sail them . . .  “No way!” thundered the gods,  “All you gave is ours! We made it all, even the likes of you!” And so I gave the gods away  Transformation & Escape I reached heaven and it was syrupy. It was oppressively sweet. Croaking substances stuck to my knees. Of all substances St. Michael was the stickiest. I grabbed him and pasted him on my head. I found God a gigantic fly paper. I stayed out of his way. I walked where everything smelled of burnt chocolate.  Meanwhile St. Michael was busy with his sword hacking away at my hair. I found Dante standing naked in a blob of honey. Bears were licking his thighs. I snatched St. Michael´s sword and quartered myself in a great circular adhesive.  My torso fell upon an elastic equilibrium. As though shot from a sling  my torso whizzed at God fly paper. My legs sank into some unimaginable sog. My head, though weighed with the weight of St. Michael, did not fall. Fine strands of multi-colored gum suspended it there. My spirit stopped by my snared torso. I pulled! I yanked! Rolled it left to right! It bruised! It softened! It could not free! The struggle of an Eternity! An Eternity of pulls! of yanks!  Went back to my head, St. Michael had sucked dry my brainpan! Skull! My skull! Only skull in heaven! Went to my legs. St. Peter was polishing his sandals with my knees! I pounced upon him! Pummeled his face in sugar in honey in marmalade! Under each arm I fled with my legs! The police of heaven in hot pursuit! I hid within the sop of St. Francis. Gasping at the confectionary of his gentility I wept, caressing my intimidated legs.  They caught me. They took my legs away. They sentenced me in the firmament of an ass. The prison of an Eternity! An Eternity of labor! of hee-haws! Burdened with the soiled raiment of saints I schemed escape. Lugging ampullae its daily fill I schemed escape. I schemed climbing the impossible mountains. I schemed under the Virgin's whip. I schemed to the sound of celestial joy. I schemed too the sound of earth, the wail of infants, the groans of men, the thud of coffins. I schemed escape. God was busy switching the spheres from hand to hand. The time had come. I cracked my jaws. Broke my legs. Sagged belly-flat on plow on pitchfork on scythe. My spirit leaked from the wounds. A whole spirit pooled. I rose from the carcass of my torment. I stood on the brink of heaven. And I swear that great territory did quake when I fell, free.  Gregory Corso (1930–2001)