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Showing posts from August, 2018

i.m. Nathan Carson, Nov 2, 1979 - Aug 11, 2018

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It's strange, The way that people pick puppies.
In a cardboard box Off to the side of the road On a whim Instantly forming a bond that lasts Forever. I have tried to do the same
With people.

- Nathan Carson 






I first met Nathan fifteen years ago at an Open Mic at a little place called The Planet Earth. 

While everyone else carefully approached the mic and nervously read their painfully personal poems, Nathan bounded on stage reciting Baudelaire.  It seemed a remarkable pairing: a fresh faced, skinny kid, reciting hellish, beautiful verses. 

I later approached him, as any good elder should, and told him he was far too young to be reading Baudelaire.  He looked about fifteen, though he was in fact, college age.  In any case, he lifted his shirt and assured me that he didn't just read Baudelaire; he'd had his words tattooed down his rib cage. 

Thus began a friendship that was at times exhilarating, other times, poignant, other times devastating.  I began inviting him to all manner of liter…