Frisell

© Jacqueline Gawler

Bill.

you are my favourite cinematic thing

a treacherous ocean of guitaring

The Bill movie screens in slo mo,

flickers with metallic decay and sonic overlay

you’re the pitchy puppeteer

pulling our strings

under black stage lights

Dr. Bill

With foot on pedal and electric metal,

And driving your existential dream machine,

You elicit harmonics that scour chest cavities

Grow fingernails

And spark meridians

You offer lydian medication

And warm bath voicings

laced with an Unspeakable beauty

that warps and wrings the core

our pulses pinging

ours guts singing

and then with passive aggressive precision

you extract the rawest feeling from

our quagmire hearts

in gumboots, and with a surgeon’s knife

you head straight for the central nervous system

where we lay -

bound by our senses

and fed intravenously

by your guitarosity

Sometimes

I watch a portrait of you

be Painted From Memory,

drawn from a Bill blueprint

And I can see that

from your brain grows an etheric tree

A technicolour vegetation

sprouting roots in your crown

electric branches bristling to the sky

Downloading your bent nursery rhymes from

some 5th dimensional heaven.

Does God decide which key?

Bill,

You’re a slave to fantasy.

you and your wild strings

they make my heart sing

they make everything groovy

Bill.

I think I love you