A Hundred Gourds 2:4 September 2013
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Glenn G. Coats - USA


I want a guitar that has been around, played in living rooms and dorm rooms, passed from uncle to nephew, brother to sister, closet to pawn shop. I want a guitar with a neck well oiled from the sweat of human hands, its face scratched from fingernails and picks. I want hairline splits in the sides like the first signs of aging in a face. I desire a guitar made of maple and spruce, wood that has aged so the notes are clear and ring crisp in the air like bells. I no longer want perfection.

winter moon
dish water cracks
in my hands

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