Carrying the Blues Down a Ladder with Robert Johnson Upon Consideration of the RPM Conundrum
I've long loved you as the voice inside another mouth
making seal on the doctored bottle's wet lipped lie
I've read: one laced bottle, two, or none. I've been
to all three markers, left strings, pennies, guitar picks
thumbed into dirt just to get them that much closer to you
my aetherial black angel, the sound of whom they will
never purify, cannot alter, regardless of pitch or time
they won't question your tempo as you trumpet us home.
Addendum: Are Robert Johnson's songs recorded too fast? You decide.
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