From among rampikes where I study ancient things,
I think I could reach up with my ponderosa arms and
pull down all the gods. I could bring them
here to earth, but people would only know them as
Know them in that same way that the
general population will always know
beauty and brilliance.
I’m society, some things are outside of it;
and gazes are always turned to those things
like the barrel of a gun. Scoffs are shot from
perfect, lipstick painted mouths like bullets.
But to be perfect is to have never burned.
Things that have not endured burning cannot
give light. And in the absence of light,
no one ever sees anything.
What I’m saying is, each person can set themselves afire in some way and endure –
can be stars speckled against darkness.
To be or not to be is a question of suicide,
but I ask, “To march in bright, radiant, conflagrant madness…or to simply spectate
in dull content?”
The thing to really remember is:
If you are to spectate, it is only because
more enkindled “mad” things allow it.
The Editors Top Ten
Ligeia, under dimmed lights/Oloriel
A Moment of Dying/Kindra Austin
The Magic Quilt/Zelda Reville
Marching in Madness & March Madness/1Wise-Woman
A biography? What would I tell you? That I am a drunk miserable sod that writes and plays music and wanders nomadically? That I try fruitlessly to scatter around whatever goodness is in me in hopes that maybe someone else wouldn’t feel as miserable as I do? That I’m just some dumb, angry man that cares too much despite wishing I truly didn’t give a damn?
Do you really think that would matter? Anything I could tell you would just be what I think and feel about myself. Is that really who anyone is?
The point I’m making is that it doesn’t matter what I tell you. Anything anyone needs to know about anyone else doesn’t come from some shit they say about themselves. What people are and the way that they choose to exist as a conscious human is what a biography should say, but those things are actions and reactions and the outward representations of what is inside someone. You can’t tell that in words.
You can find Nathan on Instagram at God of Dregs