malkmusian whine (or another gnomic statement)

midlife midwives worship the heart
they got the plum jars for the r & r lads
w/ the new kids & the custom guitars
that stutter in fits & starts, then echo
past sunrooms, houseboats, stations of service
at twilight, anne & loretta meet by witchcraft

boxcars housing longing & teenage witchcraft
bought the tunes, feral 45s, a turntable heart
sometimes this is fandom, there’s other service
beers at b’s, nodding to the noodling of the lads
& the ladies, we’re blissing to the riffing echo
a midnight seance of percussion & guitars

let’s ignore the counting coup of bars w/ guitars
we can conjure it, let’s conjure it, w/ witchcraft
crushed in the pit w/ soused youngsters & echo
of futurist post grads taking singles to heart
crowd’s mad for the tunes of these prankster lads
sweaty purveyors tripping the hibernation service

but I’m getting ahead of the thesis, this service
is not for reward, gold discs, autographed guitars
a way to sedate the faux alcoholic office lads
bored by the copiers, acolytes of indie witchcraft
but still not getting played, hence losing heart
repairing to the strings of nashville & its echo

ignoring the top 40 celebrations, their tinny echo
preferring nasty & his pre-show beer buzz service
sm smirking behind words, an open/shut heart
westie’s snap crackle kit & spiraling guitars
i/bold(t) bass lines like subtle dub witchcraft
give credence to all santa suited & slickered lads

enough about the musos, the music beats the lads
can’t get close enough to the feel of reverb, echo
collaging, esoteric lyrics, production witchcraft
a relay race w/ broker opponents & speedy service
a duel to the death or at least inertia w/ guitars
a peace made between detachment & the heart

was it witchcraft that brought on this much heart?
no, these lads are not knights of any such service
just tricksters of echo & dusk tinged guitars


Daniella Chiminelli
Yonkers, NY