Become an idol sheathed in gold leaf.
Let no one touch you but the wind, and then only through proxies.
Have your hands replaced with hooks and your feet with augers.
Avoid lakes and oceans, thunderstorms and kisses. Dry out.
Live on earth: an unconsummated star smoldering under a thin crust of ash.
Spend your holidays on a barely cooled tongue of lava, or the slag pile from an old coal mine.
Become coal yourself if necessary, but avoid the extremes of heat and pressure that would turn you translucent.
Diamonds are a poor fuel, and their cold fires last nowhere near forever.
We need to burn carbon if we are to fulfill our destiny.
Embark on a long-distance relationship, ideally with the assistance of an anatomically correct knitted heart.
Listen through keyholes.
Feed small rumors with bacon grease and fan them with the shoulder blades of race horses.
What is digestion but a controlled burn?
Join the crowd for a public execution or the overthrow of a government.
Dance the way flames dance, leaping in and out of existence.
Oxidize and exfoliate like a slow book made of rust.
Glow if you can’t flicker, flicker if you can’t blaze.
Set fire to the crops so the harvest will never come, cold and dark—that death that grows inside you like a field of snow.
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- How to wake up
- How to eat
- How to walk
- How to listen
- How to wait
- How to breathe
- How to find things
- Manual: How to make videopoems, courtesy of Swoon
- How to lose
- How to dance
- How to procreate
- How to play
- How to listen: the movie
- How to mourn
- How to calculate
- How to grow up
- How to spit
- How to burn
- How to mourn, Belgian-style
- How to make a fist
- How to make a face
- How to sacrifice
- How to take notes
- How to talk
- How to dig
- How to sleep
- How to cast a shadow
- How to teem
- How to fit in
- How to sit
- How to panic
- How to exist
- How to drive
- How to question authority
- How to cook
- How to find things (videopoem)
- How to distress furniture
- How to meditate
- How to be a poet
Oh, that ending is perfect.
Thanks! I was afraid it might seem a little over-the-top.
You know, I think people might begin to suspect something if you wear your heart on your blog. But fortunately the nihilistic ending will scotch such thoughts :-)
Whatever they suspect will not be as wondrous as the plain truth.
Oh, I like this one very much, Dave. Especially
Live on earth: an unconsummated star smoldering under a thin crust of ash.
and
Feed small rumors with bacon grease and fan them with the shoulder blades of race horses.
Oh, cool — glad you liked those lines. I’ll have to return to the sacrificial idea in another page of the manual.
This might be my favourite so far; love the hooks and augers, and the shoulder blades of racehorses, and the slow book made of rust… and all of it really.