Poem edit inspired by my last post.
Playing a Tele
Simple. Ugly. Like plucking
a block of wood
ringing heavy.
Can you hear
the hot snap of lightning
split the grain
splinter the rings of the Alder tree? The tree
that became the hollow hard body
you cradle in your lap like a large dog. It sings square.
The knot-holes flute out. Shine.
Simple.
Ugly.
Shimmer.
Thwack.
Like a towering smolder
of airy thick-haired Americana
drenched in windcut rocks.
The ocean was here once.
A million years ago.
The amps are screaming level, smooth.
Rumble. A string is bent in half and
whips back
on fire.
