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..............C H U N K .................

wake
candle struggles in its depths
cuddling the wall of wax

turntable spins the disc
the click
like static
an empty line
lays
waiting

fix me striation
like a snapped string
on our worn Gibson

give me your vision
your deep echo thoughts
like a voice from
a wood chamber

ere she rests
beneath this mantle of
morn'

mantle of red
tangled like a nest
features soft
not under duress

and skin the hushed
soft tone of moonlight

I call my boyz
we must make a ride
and take what is due

the heaviness of sin
is begotten as this rain

I pick up the tender needle
and place it on the track
again

Delibres Flowers duet

and close the door
the key to the oldsmobile
against the copper jacket
of the .33 mm fob

and a list in my head
for these collection
jobs

Editing stage: 

Comments

diaspora of the damned
and lost

enjoyable write Lonnie
Ive lived it through my years
the bright the dark
the bleary and suffused

Ive covered much ground

Thank You for the comments
One poet to one poet

Roger That!!

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