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A Short Poem About Vinyl

Sound, in motion on the platter
Around and around at thirty-three
and a third revolutions per minute
Through the needle to my ears
Warm and deep, with crackles and pops

The static and the clicks
coming from the dust is my favorite part
It makes the sound seem so delicate
like it could fall and shatter

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


Hello, Michael,
A lovely bit of nostalgia with this. I realize vinyl is returning, but I'm assuming there are no crackles and pops and static as back in the day. I especially like your title. It fits the poem perfectly - straight to the point, but almost in homage.
Thank you!

to my ears. Warm and deep with crackles and pops.
The static and clicks coming from the dust is my favorite part
It makes the sound seem so delicate, like it could fall and shatter."

You have captured the sound of an album playing softly. With my eyes closed
and waiting for the oblivion of sleep; I remember many nights of alone
and not caring, because I had the company of some of the world's greatest music.

It seems that the days and hours that people
are available for chatroom are staggered and
not a good match for most everyone. How about
if everyone just shows up at the door, whenever
they have a few free minutes?

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