The sound
in a single pine:
single pine sound.
And the pronunciation of his guitar—
you are caught on a twig,
startled by stepping on pine-bark.
Springing: the way a pine
transports energy to the needle.
Experienced pine (the sway).
Young pine with its serpent power,
old pine whose vortex centers
high up toward the tip.
Closes eyes—utterly oiled parts,
smooth ground-to-sky sway,
188 slow sway, Bay Bridge.
Smiles (gold tooth), eyes almost
shut most of the time; swaying,
eyes closed but also back; smiling
like the dock’s egret, plumage
cresting, blowing behind its back.
Snowy egret, beak like a magnified
pine needle, tailfeathers
dissolving.
MOON: flashlight leading him onstage.
Rip and draw! of his songs’
particular heat-sway; a mirage
in his face bends differently
for each note.
His voice planes, bristles,
fiery, not anything a match could imitate.
The same songs burned to ash last night
but they were no one else’s songs.
All the famous songs
no one you know in the daytime knows.
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