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Death by drowning going down. Jana caught singing, Glenn warbling along in & out of key, Noah fluttering, we singing, assorted other voices & a smattering of applause.
Have you ever been smattered with applause? Not a bad feeling. Better than scraped by claws. Naked outside the laws? In a smalltown ancienter than roots we pitched our tents on, crooked on their backs.
Infamy moved inside, somewhere built its own little house right here, nomads clinging to the last trickle of grapes from that arbor we abandoned untouched, wine unmade, vines tragic & alone back of Ithaca cave forever dreaming about a new Ithaca, where the roots stretched forth eros as she lay await.
I called her up, heard the vigor of her disdain, lost my nerve. What did I say that day? An anomaly, the turning away, the patterns grown bricks up smashed slowly through by that same tree, ever stretching forth eros, waiting to reproduce here, a bag of acorns destined to some dusty grinder, flattened like our bellies once were, moved from there to here, the aging of eros grown mistrustful in all the years of lonely happenstance & selfdenial.
Creeps up inside, buries its eggs there, dies with its young, faithful. digging the earth, halfgrown crystals of breath in motion, breaking dark when the light shines, lacking the support of the grave they’re born in, wriggling in my hand, crying out with their bodies unhewn like we were.
Scream when I play for you, one way or another.
Taking the d/d ethic one step further, searching for an escape out the back door of eternity onto the highway, where the grassy branches flow past in traffic nightsongs swinging imaginary silver & red, but it grinds to a halt in the shoelaces of solace, forgotten by long dead echoes way, not drowning but desiccating, drying out, a suffocation of some part of our body, internal bleeding, ultimate stillness of the river of life to stagnant pond, & then, filling & overflowing its banks, running again to a fresh rivulet, which grows & becomes something else, leads to new lows from these old heights, all of it new in the glow of morning, the words even forgotten & the everpresent mourning, the glow of the light in the night when the moon is nowhere but clouds reflect the incoming to LA over the hills, & down the sunshine we ride around in shoes & jeeps, working it workin it imagining, writing the future on the walls of our minds before anything interferes with our possession of it, till perhaps she comes along & reminds us of our past failures, distrust, disrespect, drowning us in worry & sorrow & the sadness of hours & days & years & decades of timewasted life run dry, the parched lack of it, brittle & dry, a desert our lives, a darkness a bloodlessness a rattling old skeleton rattling round the hovel & dried out in a corner.
The perfection of the finished product, the completely tailored & polished piece of stone, that’s not what stone is all about. The stone is rough, man, & it’s got it all, cricks off gold & pieces of diamond, & when it’s polished, broken down, made to be what it isn’t, you’d better get it right, but it’s hard to do. You don’t just take the gold & diamonds & sell them & take the rest & call it trash. Without it, there would be nothing. It is. Love is in it, & gold & diamonds are in it.
Take them apart like splitting up a family to sell members down the river, the heartbreak of destruction of love.
Whereupon the roads run us over while we’re still driving in our cars, the mom in here ... Talking ... Again ... Insisting over & over again until you either offend her or relent.
I’ve quit relenting. No reason for it. You gotta not care about doing what she wants, so much as doing what’s best. You can still love her & not need to do everything she wants. In fact, if it’s love, & not fear, you will refuse to do those things, like with a child, you don’t want to give her everything she thinks she wants, because she is incapable of knowing what she really wants, what is best. Doing what she says is not love.
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| rockin |
CD: ROCK
Label: ddrecords
Credits: noah haverkamp guitar, glenn marsala guitar vocals |
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| Rock out. |
CD: To Get Signed
Label: ddrecords
Credits: Noah Haverkamp guitars & vocal; Glenn Marsala drums & backing vocals |
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| begins with the inkling of jam
buttered with time, bread toasted by techno & spread with blues |
CD: To get signed
Label: ddrecords
Credits: glenn marsala & noah haverkamp |
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