LATEST SUBMIT WRITERS BUY
A poem is a song you write when the band's gone home.
A Poem is a Song You Write When the Band's Gone Home BY DAVE MORRISON 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 01
34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 01 GOOD GIRLS ALICE SHIN ONE MORE THING STEFAN SCHUMACHER FAILING SYLVIE SUSAN BREEDEN INVISIBLE ROSALIA SANFILIPPO MARTIN AND ANDREA, WHY DO YOU 
ALWAYS LOOK IN THE MIRROR? DAVID MILLER GREAT-GREAT-GREAT PATRICK COLE THE NUVARING DEANNA ROY PROPHECY JOHN JANDA LONELY BICEPS JAKE EPSTINE BACKWARDS IS MEMORY MICHAEL OVERA COMMITMENT ELIZABETH CASTORIA IRAQ, YES IRAQ GREG GERKE ECLIPSE RACHELLE HAFEN TO A PAINTER MICHAEL PECK MY LOVE DAVE MORRISON NOTHING OF VALUE IN THIS CAR JAMES GORMLEY KNOCKING ON JAMES MEREDITH SECOND THOUGHTS KELLY DESILET PLAY... PAUSE... REWIND MEALEE THOMAS FORGET THE SMOKE COLIN DARDIS ONE BLOCK OFF THE STRIP LORI KOZLOWSKI REHEARSING IN THE DARK JUDY KABER SLEEPY TRANSIENCE COREY EVANS WHAT WE’VE CREATED HERE HOWARD MCKENZIE-MURRAY BURDENS CHER’LEY GROGG REFLECTIONS JM PENGELLY LOST SPOUSE MICHAEL LEE JOHNSON MAN & TROLLEY ALAN EMMINS THE EMOTION OF LIGHT CHRIS NIESMERTELNY AFTER THE MUSIC DAVE MORRISON CHOICE AND CIRCUMSTANCE SUSAN BREEDEN WRITING FOR KICKS ROSALIA SANFILIPPO MEETING PLACE DAVID MILLER MAN & GOLF BUGGY ALAN EMMINS MURDEROUS GIG DEANNA ROY READ RAGE SHARON HARRIOTT UNDERWATER CHRIS NIESMERTELNY MORNING FOG JOHN WAYNE MCCLUNG, JR COUNTRY ROAD NEAR BOLOGNA FABIO SASSI AUSTIN, TEXAS DEANNA ROY

A poem is a song you

write when the band's

gone home:  an empty club with the

lights on, bartender preparing a bank

drop, waitress having one last

smoke before setting free the

babysitter; waiting for the van,

the pounding on the alley door, humping

the gear that gets

heavier every night, finally

home to a dark street, satisfaction and

loneliness, the list in your head of

things you could have done better,

falling asleep with ringing ears.

 

Poetry is the songs you write when

the band's gone, and that's fine;

see, now, the drummer's not late, the singer's not

drunk, no more painful shock from the microphone, or

broken strings, no asshole who

only wants to hear Zeppelin, no

bully bar owner, or drunks who

talk over love songs.

 

A poem is a song that

doesn't need a band, but

here's what I miss:

new strings

a dance floor

the punch and roll of a good drummer

cigarettes and Dewars

couples kissing in dark corners

a bartender who likes my songs and

pushes back my crumpled bills, the

feeling you carry unseen, like

shrapnel, that tonight

could be the

night.

 

 THE 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE BY MARTIN CHIPPERFIELD 34THPARALLEL@GMAIL.COM