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'62 Strat www23 March 2009

I eviscerated my Stratocaster, myself
the connoisseur of reckless ignorance,
but gazing into surf green guts and
knowing that she is always la guitare

transplanting the calculated hearts,
copper mysteries of the coil-winder,
new knobs and wires and screws
tuned to the summer of '62

in the anxiousness of first tuning,
adjusting bridge heights and strings,
afraid that I stole her soul from
beneath the sharp new scratch plate

but the living wood re-finds its place,
rosewood over alder and maple,
neck and body tense in harmony
re-living the overtones of intimacy

behind these strong new voices
I know we kept the faith, me and
the machine, and wonder out loud
if you and I could ever be the same

 

 
So here she is, my beloved Fender Strat. The instrument is actually a complete bitza but that's pretty much how they looked in 1962, though techie readers will note the more modern (and much better) bridge. Just how much detail should I put in for the anoraks . . . ?
 

All poems and other texts on this site are the copyright of Richard Edward Hugh Castellan 2009