Fiction flash: Mix tape
There is an element of capture and preservation in the act of creating a mix tape for a friend. ___ is a poet. He understands metric; blends new words as hues from the primes; writes with a wooden foundation pen. It is summer as he swaps out the second cassette. James Brown for The Kinks. It is summer in his poems too. It is...it is as his left hand makes the chords shapes of Lola that he decides to take his car and drive to the golf course, drive across the golf course, ripping the fuck from the grass of the golf course, and launch off the cliff and into the sea. But ___ is a poet. There is, first, the last song of the mix tape.
Labels: flash fiction








4 Comments:
Have you read the book "Love Is a Mix Tape" by Rob Sheffield. I haven't, but this post reminded me of it...
No, I haven't. Is it any good?
Matt at los amigos de derutti, my go-to guy on all things sampled, remixed and hip-hoppy, liked it.
I haven't read it.
Good point :-)
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