Sunday, November 29, 2009

Brenda Petrakos


I love rock and roll !
It liberates the kid at the New Jersey turn pike
The southern comfort daughter
The high roller’s son in his hotel on the strip
a shelter
a voice to remind
I love rock and roll
Every singer in 1972 was my friend
And they repeat their chants like
Mystic monks to tribal beats
And everyone knows the songs
And everyone sings with Mick
Or John and holds an invisible instrument
To their chest
And fingers
So savage
The air
Because we love it
We love it
We love rock and roll

Friday, November 13, 2009

Don Kingfisher Campbell


I no longer listen to licorice pizza
spin in my 9x12 cobalt blue bedroom
while sitting on a triple-sheeted bed
staring at band posters on three walls

I don't even pop a plastic pop tart
into a bulky black metallic cuboid
caged within a wood-laminated rack
in a corner of our shag carpeted apartment

I also stopped sliding aluminum bagels
onto outstretched "clay" computer trays
seconds later hearing tinny rockers emerge
from likewise-colored package speakers

Now just like the new young people I
download electronically ephemeral codes
which produce sounds sourced a hemisphere
away by a law-breaking Australian I pay

But I'm still enjoying the same music
so my daughter and her friends disappear
when they hear a cosmic pixie sing
without an urban beat or hormonal longing