The poetry in The Purple Cow deals with Carol Croskery's take on life explored in themes of nature, music, love, and whimsy. The art of Beth March contains photographic samples of the best art of this printmaker. At times the subject matter collides, but this is mostly coincidental.Introduction
The Purple Cow, for which this little volume and the title poem are named, sounds the opening notes—of the playfully surreal, and of art and jazz and heady memories for those who frequented the coffee house in its heyday. Carol Croskery's verses in this amiable collaboration range from wit and homespun lightness to her brief but deft exposures of the more jagged edges and shadings of the private human caught in the jazz of its time. The images of artist Beth March make a cacophonous counterpoint of visual wit romping throughout, laced with madness and cunning, humor flirting with ire and irony—the play of a strong spirit not to be hushed and not to be ignored!
Together the measured lines and the procession of figures animate the pages and energize each other like the back-and-forth of friends sharing October wine at a comfy inn with a brisk fire in the grate, plenty of moxie in the air, and nowhere to be on the morrow.
These are the harvest sharings and independent 'takes' on life of two old friends long separated by geography but coming together in this volume. Together, they have assembled a flavorful pastiche—in the old Greco-Roman sense of a pie of many different ingredients. It sits cooling on the metal window sill, inviting the casual passerby to steal a piece or two or three, and asserting that art and friendship will aways transcend strangeness and distance for those who gather and are gathered. For when the pie is opened, the birds begin to sing.