Thurston I

This is a peas i wrote after seeing Thurston Moore solo at a jazz festival



Thurston I

Crash, calm
bam, boom
noise, noise
a wave
the drums were slow
then a train
behind the hollowing effect
of feed back, feed back
he stood as the conductor
of sound, and energy
of heat, and cold
the willingness of sound
the let go
it moaned and whined
like a dying youth
caught inside
then brought up like a scream
the drums pounded
rhythmically
then the guitar became the train
of sound
sweeping past you
then through you
in you, in you
kept you till the end
then the down time
with a pitter patter beat
and a wailing spiral down
caused by friction or pain
that I don’t know