(- REDUX 2019 -)
no longer is
gray now shines
from a balding head
filled with scarlet embers
memories still burn
a fired spirit
too deep for coddled mortals
to fully fathom
red is real
red is legend
his tales of pain
of injustice
the lore of the big muddy
his eyes
earthy brown
turbulent as that river
his stare
a deep current
impossible to escape
you’re swept away
his voice
a tempered edge
honed by blues
broadleaf husky
thick as sorghum
smooth as beale street bourbon
the cf martin
swings from a leathered neck
on a tattered strap
stretched and shaped
by the heft of sorrow
poured into the soundhole
marked and scarred
by years of burden
of witness
its character and patina
bear testament
to a genuine soul
cracked and seasoned hands
reach with suffered care
to wrap the fingerboard
in love
callused digits
yellowed by habit
depress taut strands
no longer catgut
blood and bone
grip
connect
sculpting emotions
true life
ensnared in sitka spruce
and spiraled steel
knowing strains rise
chords of loss
rhythmic stomp
stinging verse
of broken promise
failed love
of dirt field
cruel street
back alley
of harsh wisdom
resonate to fill this space
to break my heart
to steal my soul
swept away
rendered by: rob kistner © 2007
