Fingers hurt and cracked.
Ears ring and burn.
Throat strangled and raw
but
I'm still smiling,
friends, brothers and sisters.
It's good.
It's good to see you smile.
It's good to see you shake
and bounce
up and down
in unrestrained joy
to our toybox music
leaving every
graying doubt
and fretful memory
out on the street
amongst the ashes
of fallen fireworks.
Thank you.
I'll keep this with mine.
I'll keep this
for when I need it.
For when things go wrong
like when the birds
stop singing to
streaks of dawn
or when
my meaning and my words
don't meet
and
for when
the catcher
is the pitcher.
Monday, July 7, 2008
The Catcher On The Mound
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3 comments:
It's good to have some cathartic adulation in the account. The valleys can be so shadowy.
I don't do so well with the adulation thing my bruddah. For me, I go all Hildegard of Bingen just seeing people enjoy themselves to the music's racket. It's more like being a priest and cranking up the liturgy so people can get the spirit in them. Those are my favorite memories playing music; they all center around that feeling of belonging to something bigger than the sum of it's parts, not about idolitary. I'm all Hari Georgeson and no Ron Nasty, I s'pose. Good thing I'm yer guitar player!
Idolatry... I meant idolatry. And I be a dolt!
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