September 13, 2009


It has to be something like this. ‘A’

(He has no name as yet) is telling this

Preposterous lie to the womenfolk.

It’s also a proprietary lie,

Which means, although he senses disbelief,

He does not know the truth as yet, just lies—

But you’ve already guessed this part, right?—

Maybe he can’t, maybe he doesn’t even want

To know the truth—still, standing there, too late

To change his mind, he makes a bad decision

And tells the story like it was Collier

Who was lying, not ‘A’—Collier, the foil,

Collier, the character. To wit:


Collier is sitting on the dais, and yeah,

He’s got a knife on his person, but no,

He’s not planning anything violent, no

Sic semper tyrannis, dude. So, don’t knock it.

The ground quakes—you’re surprised?—a drum roll, please:

Collier as critic, Collier as poéte maudit,

Collier as character. Collier the liar,

Collier, about to shout that thing about

Tyrants—but of course he must mean

The tyranny of words, or narrative,

Or simple story, or mind-in-the-world,

—Or all of them—because that is what

He wants to kill. ‘A’ is just the front man,

The stand-in for Articulation,

He knows that… but the sun is in his eyes,

There’s tension in the way he walks, a passion

We don’t understand, something alien

About his soul. Deep down, he’s not like us.

Intrigued by truth, interrogated by the gods,

Drunk on some nectar neglected by ourselves—

That is Collier. Collier, the killer, the crime.


This proxy ego, emergent as Hell,

Thus gives its name to the imagination.

Call it Collier who saw both sides, Collier,

Fake philosopher, phony nihilist

Prophet, Collier who strode across the stage…

I saw it, it’s true. With these two eyes.

‘A’ in a splash of blood. Dead before we knew it.

Nothing to be done. The rest is silence.

(Okay, time out. A question for the crowd:

Who do you think could be saying all this?

Collier suggests we talk to Epimenides;

Art says his voice remains…beyond death.

What do you think? Care to vote? Raise your hands?)

But wait, wait, Collier cannot be dead….

For the future will emerge from this lone act,

You’ll see, the future tense, the future mythos,

The mythos that there is a future. To wit:

He will be dead someday… He has to be.

All things die. The syllogism is simple.

Too simple, you say? Okay, fair enough.

But Collier is alive right now.


I know it.

He’s alive.


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