Music (December, 2010)

Spinning vinyl of the twenty-first century,
Plastic discs and nothingness,
Embassy of the casual, rarely collectible
In tactile halls; home of radical epistolary:
The sounds, the songs,
moods and midnight lovers.

Woven each in vinyl folds,
Rivers shifting truth and lies through
The creases of life.
Material efficiency so ridiculous, and,
As ever, misplaced.
Still, we may raise a glass,
Madness finds a way.
Celebrated. Ignored. Disgraced.

 

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