Old Junk and Past Ramblings, Part 1

Kind of a cop-out post, something I ran across today from awhile back. I have something else in mind, but it's not quite cooked yet.



the singer stomps a square-toed
boot his hair moussed skyward clear
voice trembling roaring at the mic stand
tilted eyes squeezed shut and straining
to the words the lead guitarist’s scalp
gleams purple thin goatee and lip-ringed
snarl his red ax riding lean and leathered
thighs the bassist holds his five-string
like a second member pigtails whirling
round his ears the drummer smashes
cymbals with abandon four limbs churning
thunderheads beneath electric blue distortion

and then the set is over making way for who
the people came to see outside the
crowd sounds less somehow the knot of people
at the gate a clear devout minority his voice
is clear but quiet now he thanks them
signing shaking hands the drummer
handles questions softly lest they
break the bald guitarist hangs a leather
jacket from his shrunken shoulders looking
tired the bassist stands removed and eyes
the door and then a silence as somewhere
beyond the wall the crowd erupts

j thorp
01 feb 02


I used to get handle media when student groups would bring musical acts to campus. Stood right in front of the stage, behind the "security," even. Looking up from the floor, even a second-rate band looks larger than life. Get 'em out in the light, though, and they shrink somehow ...

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