Black Vinyl



Black Vinyl



Needle riding uniform waves; disc tilting while circling

around your open ears, open arms, half-slit eyes’ moan

New sounds, pushing against the normal daily beat

It’s only a fabrication, analog impressions, orchestrations

Only cues for recalled hot-nerve twitch muscle movements

checking off notes on your nervous system’s To-Do list


Black vinyl spins you, barbaric leggy Eve of all creation’s

spontaneous first note—Life—to the making


Pure Vibration’s belly dance Mistress

You, the cradle of carbon noisemakers kick-tooth gap spanner

Now needle’s jumping, out of its groove hue, black to blues

The carpet is warmest jungle fiber mingling with dancing toes

Be felled; tunes for timber, its sound is marrow, melt to the floor

Back to the pool in wonder, streaming all matter to all energy

black vinyl spins you in the language of making—skip, jump, skip


in the making

in the making

in the making 




4 thoughts on “Black Vinyl

  1. Another tour de force. Music used to be so warm, tactile, and frictional, a needle penetrating a groove and bringing forth sound from it. I’m feeling this.

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