Category Archives: Mix Tape

Who was that cute boy, brother as clean-cut teen, with a folk guitar, beardless chin to the mic in the Franklin gym? Who was my brother then, senior year, with Gene in the middle, full-throated,

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A one-winged dove ooh, ooing as dusk settled and the car barreled toward home. The plea of I don’t wanna do your dirty work twisting around the pipes below a sink full of dishes piled

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The bristly drawl waits inside me, warms my mahogany neck, courses through the smoothest rosewood. If you have tattoos, you know what it’s like to be told, Careful: It’s permanent. The ink that labeled me

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In mere minutes the cherry-red curtains would part, Duane would strum that power chord, the hot spotlight would smack Tony in the face, he’d grab the mike and open his mouth; it would all happen.

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Ozzy bit a bat’s head off, headed for rabies shots, proved checked-in cough was habitual from joints with Iommi by calling from the hospital phone a friend who played the intro to “Sweet Leaf” on

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The core of any computer is the motherboard. Cops, priests, the Medicis, Lehman Brothers, all must bow to circuitry named for the woman who bore us all. We warm our hands over resistors, capacitors, parts

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surrounding cerebellum’s irregular gray folds, seeding violet lilacs of language with the yellow pine of pleasure, red oaks to ward off fear, blue spruce among an evergreen assortment to warrant your great attention. In my

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Joy feels no joy here in the cramped backstage area. She holds her guitar neck with her left hand, adjusts her Beatles’ wig with her right, ignores the chatter of her bandmates, her sisters in

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This is the movie the part in the movie where the star basketball player gets hurt and most of the others have fouled out so the snotty kid who annoys everyone but deep down inside

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You’re on stage naked   singing Sweet Jane   unplugged, shoulders leaking bad whiteness   into a vortex of mysterious chords.   You finish with a subdued flourish and only one person claps   but

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