Cassette By Libby Howard, Kyle Sutherland, Jose Guerrero, Elizabeth Cheever

Subway stations are sleeping. a young boy in shredded clothes pounds his lonely bones on buckets. His flow shakes the ground. he keeps throbbing through the night. He's not quite homeless. Just homesick with those sticks sticks those sick sticks stuck to palms. He is a beat master. play on young padawon. sssshhhhkkkk

Press your finger to the PLAY button. feel the fire under your skin. Music is magic and magic is music hear the click like a cymbal. like a mic. like a black cord snaking with ampmeters. hear a click like sssshhhhkkkk

The orchestra tunes like a rising wave, crashing over him on his conductor's platform and rushing to the audience behind him. He has always felt like the captain at the helm of a great ship with his baton in his hand, navigating Mozart's storms and Beethoven's reefs and Vivaldi's wild swells in a boat of wood and strings rowed with cello bows. sssshhhhkkkk

The woman lays still in a hospital bed. The room reeks of dried tears. Her hand feels the shadow of her baby. It's heartbeat, snug under flesh. Why couldn't she have just kept this one. The silence is making her sick to her stomach. Making music out of misery. sssshhhkkk

Hear a click like listening to the first song on the first mix cd your first crush ever gave you.
hear a rip concert ticket rip ticket rip. headphones.
snare drums.
tap shoes. like a cassette tape deck dipped in the heart-melting, gut-wrenching, head-throbbing that can only be capture through the power of sssshhhhkkkk
The flies are buzzing like trombones, blaring in the brassy heat of the orchard, the leaves smack together like cymbals, his hands stretch like a bassist's, straining for high notes, for the ripe peach flesh that hangs heavy in the branches. He is sweating piano keys; the sun is bright hot saxophone, the fruit thumps in the basket like a snare drum. sssshhhhkkkk

A girls' dusty tribal feet dance around fires asking for rain she rushes this rhythm, she is parched, the music quenches drum heart thirst, centuries of Hopi footsteps treaded on the round earth chanting chanting, chanting waiting for something momentous sssshhhhkkkk
This Arizona melody is stuck in his head, this desert melting away a cassette tape with this heat, heat, heat like hell on earth, shoes burning he beat turning walking, running running running fences flashlights fear freedom freedom fighting freedom, SOMEONE HELP. He's lost in this dessert they call hip hop trying to cross the border back to his home blues. ssssshhhkkk

Marching, stepping, shooting, looting, stomping, stomping, like robots, robots, robots. We are no longer humans but killing machines, killing beats with more passion than we killed the afghanees. I am the aftermath of war, I am a monster I'm a beast and with this shhhkkkkkk. Brought back to reality, bullets piercing flesh, phat beats. Bullet to head. base beats. sounds of death invades my head and I scream stop, drop beats not bombs. ssssshhhhkk.

Music is magic and magic is music. bass, key tone, loose it, Beethoven composed his 9th symphony deaf. Which is why its so perfect there was no insecurity in his tones, for he could not judge them. Could not hear the critics, or the crowd, or the music, he just felt it. Like thunder, like kick drum, like heartbeat. Like we sing louder, so you can hear us in the heavens we are shorelines crashing voiceless and you can never hear us crying or breaking down like machine, boom box, cd player, a tape, a track, like the gospel, like the boom like the bang bang can you hear us? Our voices break those huge walls of clouds the sun shines down like a break beat beat like robots, drop like ripe fruit, like drum thirst, like hip hop, gunshots, balloon pop,

like subways stations are sleeping.

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