33 (1/3)

Reflections of a Refugee; free verse

I stitch staccato scratches
over drum loops and phat break beats
my left hand on the vinyl

contrapuntal crossfader clicks
are the transitory self replenishing
residue of rubato ruminations

techniques exceed the juris juris
diction diction of my jacked up gemini’s—
the needle skips
slips across unsuspecting grooves and

murders the rhythm.

I sing the backlash blues
through my fingertips

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