Poets have taken up the banner-boasting of their rule in hell. Alas, the panzer man listens to Wagner. Identification with Nobodaddy unsexes us, negates the dignity of nature, and robs us of the power to discriminate. Though to their credit, poems that honestly express emotion serve as brave records of opposition to repressive regimes. But catastrophe nears.
Poetry can prescribe the medicine our sickness needs.
The Buddhist concept of night livelihood demands an ecotropic poetic. Because we can no longer distinguish this from that, constructing the new Skambha requires a new definition of evil. It is wrong when it tends otherwise. Respiration changes the weather. Vile priests crudely tapped into the energy trapped in the dead.