Vinyl Dreams
Rain, mood-inducing,
muffles sound.
I resurrect my hoard
of old records,
awestruck like an
amateur archaeologist.
Going away, coming
back, interstate, overseas,
pushing, hunched,
through life’s turnstiles,
the dying radiance of
doomed love,
surly wasteland of
work’s wrong turns,
boredom, burglary
(robbers’ good taste?)
resolutions and
revolutions,
New Years, mid-life,
chemical, technical,
funerals, police cars,
hospitals, trains,
I harbored these
commemorative tracks.
How did Elvis, Fats
Domino, Paul Anka,
this motley throb of
wistful voices echoing
in acoustic chambers
of agitation,
survive the slippage
of my years?
I softly blow dust
from memorized sleeves,
this connection to my
churning heart then,
that past, a ghosted
outline of the present,
my teeming brain
casting me back.
Ian C Smith’s work has appeared in Axon:Creative Explorations,The Best
Australian Poetry, Island, Poetry
Salzburg Review, Quarterly Literary Review Singapore, Southerly,& Westerly His latest book is Here Where I Work, Ginninderra
Press (Adelaide). He lives in the Gippsland Lakes area of Victoria,
Australia.
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