The Northern Soul

Soul master’s sound spectrum—

Why are you up there, modified man?

Boat to England with a Twisted Wheel.

Filched phonology of a political mouth.

Blast of lesser-known faster masters.

A confused fist, an immodest patch.

In the morning, she’s my water.            Soul clap.

In the evening, she’s my cup of tea.

Phonology home, slow dancer.             Backdrop:

You’re only on a shorthand sales chart.

No interest in the original human

torch.                         Stroke on, all-nighter.

Where the ocean mattered.

I question all of my ability to hop

around.            To have some love.

In this manner of expression,

create an interconnected use.                Key attack.

It’s Northern night.                     Interpret

the steady.             Lose money

at the Wigan Casino.                   Sing

ahead, and you will drop.

Everyone, rip.