Here are the first three poems: dogs, guitars and nonfunctional hands.
Guitar Solid, semi-hollow, hollow bodied Reverberating from within out Projecting sweet noise at a pluck, a strum. Amped, noise picked up and sent on through The head and speaker. Turn of the dials: Clean, smooth, like one savors a truffle Turn again to feel The pulse of distortion, heartbeat that drives the pit. Loose and out of tune or right on standard pitch; Add a pedal, even quite a few: Head off to the stratosphere Off to six feet under. Instrument of Godliness to throngs of fans. A brush that paints dollars for some And art for the rest.
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