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cookin' with stevie ray
by Jim Chandler
flying north
at 90 stereo cranked up
wondering how
stevie ray made that
certain run in
crossfire
the one i'd give a
left nut to play
sort of crosspick thing
more from
the bottom up
not a circle roll
maybe a half windmill
not gone like
pete townshend
flogging the fender
for volumes of noise
and cacophony alone
breaking shit for
supposed coolness
this is controlled motion
sound with verve
trills that dance
on nerve endings
the kind of vibrato
it takes hands
capable of
closing windpipes
to create
so real
the gaps in the
shaking air
are audible
the spots
between the rattle
and the buzz
and the stuff
gone over
to dog land
unheard by
the human ear
eat the belly muscles
floorboard stomping music
steering wheel slapping
bouncing on leather
screw falling ashes
screw radar and john p. law
screw the ghost of
john edgar hoover
and his
prom dress music
sweet controlled
noise blaring from
vibrating cones
and the mind fires
memories of
that slightly
john holmes texas face
twisted under
a black hat
that beat up strat
pick-scraped and scarred
a magic night of music
and a big chopper
spiraling down
to a liquid
red center
but the music lives
smooth as ever
long as electric magic
reigns in the cosmos
and minds dream
between ears
that listen
back to poetry
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