david_berman raze here was a man who couldn't see his own worth or wriggle free from the darkness that closed around him like a fist. he named his first band for what i might have looked like if i'd been born old. he lingered over every lyric until he'd maximized its meaning, his perfectly imperfect voice the music's guiding light. he wrote poems that exploded the rough magic of living from the inside out, tucking similes into the tightest spaces. he left behind a final album kindred to bowie's "blackstar" in the way its meaning shifted in the wake of his passing. you thought it was love he was losing when it was the will to carry on. he could have been me. he could have been you. but he was only ever himself. he understood that an anchor lets you see the river move. and his thinning hair shone like sugarcane. 250210 what's it to you? who go blather from