Disc Collector’s English Rondeau

We take our stand on vinyl discs,
Where synapse fire, like sound, persists;
Where sawteeth wave in analog,
With cracks and higher -fi than Ogg.
We’re flattened by precision’s kiss.

But right alignment still insists
We spine our grooves and rest our fists
Stock still, unless the needle jog.
We take our stand on vinyl discs.

RPMs slow, ‘though we resist,
Our columns may indeed consist
Of polyurethane and fog,
Titanium, no master’s dog.
Bone has gone the way of mist.
We take our stand on vinyl discs.

Author: Sharonda Woodfin

Lives, cooks, studies, draws, reads and writes in Anaheim, California, with her remarkably patient wife and one tiny dog. Backs blue. #AsOne

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