Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 81 (for those rare glorious entities who retain enough resilience in their depths to do handstands)


How insulated these men were. They were imperial in their selfhood, these corporate culturists running a government. They lived, heedless, infallible. They understood contention and expected nothing else. I told them it depressed me to be in the same room with them. The president looked at me—did I mean him as well? You all live unquestioningly inside the social reality—war, God, money—that other people invented long ago, I said, and you take these things for raw existence. It was quite a speech I gave them.


They were careless of life, I said, they were prime examples of human insufficiency, I said, and I told them I spoke as an authority on the subject. Then I took a deep breath and did a handstand.

A what?

It just came over me, I was up on my hands almost before I realized it. Perhaps it was the image of Briony…

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