MIXED TAPES: SONGS FOR FEBRUARY
I picked February’s teeth clean of blood with the softest bone of my ribcage. February is holding us near the down-fluff of its dying heart. February is reminding us not to bite the gentle beat of love.
February’s Mixed Tape holds in its cupped palms quiet anthems of remembrance and realization (Yesterday by Noname, Stupid Deep by John Bellion), timid ticks of the scared heart trying to let the key turn (So Desperate by The Mountain Goats,When U Love Somebody by Fruit Bats, River Rocket by Andy Hull feat. Robert McDowell and Daniel Radcliffe, Love Love by Andy Hull feat. Robert McDowell and Daniel Radcliffe, Seagulls by Dumbfoundead), and hands held high in loud love (Spitshine by Smino, Shea Butter Baby by Ari Lennox feat. J. Cole, Posion by Stick and Poke).
Everyone has an song or two that means the world to them, a memory that lingers in each note. I’m no exception to this, and have long thought that many of the songs that have spoken to me throughout the years have a certain sort of poetry to them. A few months ago, I hit a momentary wall with traditional work and therefore became very interested in blackout poetry. It was during this experimental phase that mixed tapes was born, a series of blackout poetry from the lyrics of songs that speak to the soul.
mixed tapes is an homage to the small-town artist, to the teenager inside of all of us wanting more and taking it without realizing the consequences. mixed tapes is running through the empty parking lot at midnight, it is smoking behind the barrier of the playground, it is slipping some love songs into your pocket. It is hoping to see you this weekend.
I hope that mixed tapes finds the teenager inside you. I hope it soundtracks your heart home.
NOt even bones
I don't need to save my soul,
devil-drenched in happy
and tennis shoes,
heart an open letter,
halo lining the pine box
of me, forest child.
Us, in cars cast with mud,
racing straight to the churchyard,
warm fog on the windshield,
my hand on your sadness,
I want to climb the path of blame,
hold it down in an alley,
trash drip the holiest water.
We can find love, make moments lost,
if we just stop fucking resisting.