Member-only story
Make it
Essay
How can you fit contortion to define purpose of who you think your darlings are? Does thinking move muscles, make the back deflect? Are you tasted, the lifted cliff of an an unbelievable dream looking down to sink into feel. We don’t make us, the universal does that, it’s an it to us. Nobody knows how we got here or where we are going. You’d think we could have more control. Maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess if we had our hands on a wheel that meant something. You put your hands on me I will show you meant.
Instead we scratch for every consideration and understanding. Who the fuck made up this bullshit. Some of us don’t understand past the third grade, and the genesis in the room sit together thinking they know something. Whatever. We still have writers that work the in-between. The die-hards that don’t know when to stop. Kicking our ass with security breech and dumb founded wisdom. A chance to heat what we would never know.
So many out there getting their hair dirty: Ink black fingernails, hard to use the legs now and putting on weight. Pushing and pulling for the sense of word but the heights reached makes us think of human and the world in a different way. Thought, presence, and commitment to the reader comes around like a gift not given but lived. A chance from the heart and mind and reward.
These heroes save us. Past present and future they give us what we think of our lives and then a little more. People are not slotted. They walk around in pockets but imagination runs free. Tumble down the snow slide into the wild wonder and catch your mind along the way.
Your’s for the taking.
Michael Stang 2021
