How to Live by Todd Dillard

Depravity begins with thinking of love as a radical act.

How to Live

by Todd Dillard

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Depravity begins with thinking of love
as a radical act. I quit loving 
with difficulty. I love 
easy now. Two parakeets on my shoulders.
They'll fly away if I move. So I move.
I love flight. I love cages 
left wide open. I am not a window.
I could be a window. Open me,
you'll find a dense wood,
children wandering inside it.
Not lost children. They know the way.
They live the way horses run.
If they each had a bird in hand
they would open their hands.

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UPDATE

Dear Friends, I’m going to unpaywall the section below because I didn’t realize that if you add a paywall anywhere in a Substack post, it also means that only paid subscribers can comment — something we do not want!

We want to encourage everyone to participate in a poetry as much as possible. So, until we figure out an alternative to this conundrum, the editor’s note and writing exercise are totally free!

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Back in our interview for his Poet of the Week feature, Todd mentioned how he wanted to start with “depravity” and let “love triumph.” You can feel that shift happening right in the opening lines: “I quit loving / with difficulty. I love / easy now.”

This, in and of itself, amazes me. Oftentimes, as writers, we set out a supposedly great task before us with whatever it is we wish to profess or proclaim or pontificate (please, leave me these alliterations today). And yet, here’s a poet knowing what he wants to have happen in his poem and…letting the poem arrive there from the very beginning.

I’m also struck by the how Todd elevates small moments, connecting them to the vaster human experience. A favorite part: “Two parakeets on my shoulders. / They’ll fly away if I move. So I move.”

Now, think — if you had two parakeets on your shoulders, you’d likely stay perfectly still (well, I would). Because you want their self-evident freedom and beauty tied to you, even if just for a flash. And yet, the speaker chooses a kind of joyful renunciation over the fear of impending loss. It’s such a momentary image, but it contains the entire philosophy of the poem.

I want us to think about this for the writing exercise below. This idea of poetics as philosophy. Not a “hot take”, per say, and not even an informed opinion on some current or recent event. Rather, our innermost beliefs about what we value, or what we wished you valued more.

Writing Exercise

Start with something you do “with difficulty” that you wish came easier. Though it might be a larger theme like forgiving, trusting, being present, and so on, you could also veer in a different direction and think about something more tangible — say, maybe like me you are just really bad at changing tires.

Now, imagine about what the world looks like to someone who does this thing easily. (Maybe you have no idea, but…hence… “imagine”). What do they feel, notice, and think that is specifically different from what you feel, notice, and think? For example: someone comfortable with solitude might see a quiet room differently than a person who struggles to be alone.

Try to root your observations in simple language elevated by import as opposed to ornamentation. Re-read Todd’s poem again to understand how this looks in action.

Of utmost importance for this exercise: don’t try to be clever or snarky or even funny. Be as gentle as possible, even if it borders on slightly cringey¹ in this first, tender draft.

If you feel comfortable sharing in the comments, please do so. I’d be happy to read what you came up with.

1. I don’t like this word much, I think… but it does, for better or for worse, hold a degree of power over our often algorithmically-guided psyches.