john darnielle is my prometheus

Everyone wanted to be the young man jumped up on cocaine
shouting into the body of his electric violin
over a recording of his own shout
everyone in pricey flannels
and no one who'd really read Malraux
though everybody claimed to

I've had few moments of adulation I can remember
but when the god with the guitar came out "Next"--
oh I'd wept over his EPs since I was fifteen
and dreamed myself into his hundred songs--
I forgot those dozens in their bleach-washed jeans
shredded on thousands of shredding machines
there was the dark head of the god nodding erupting
with song his body half-soiled with darkness
and half the folds of his tour clothes shot through with light