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Again, Different Drumming |
My different drum goes
Soggy in the solid vacuum.
Poignant, if not
Pathetic to appeal—my case—
From a well of numb conductors
Scratching metrical on skin.
Too often the sticks will
Splinter, a splash of cinders and
Forsaken ash.
Yet all my beats have bloomed
In the grave of percussion,
Where lies buried
The double-bass heart
The mind’s steel rim.
copyright 2013
Alex
Johnson |
