Welcome to the list of grown men whose hearts were left at the bottom of smoking craters by Shane’s work. It’s tough to be credible when telling friends about the power of his work. I have to explain to incredulous eyes that one should not be driving when listening to his poems for the first time. Preparing to listen to, say, “A Good Day”, should be approached with the same solemnity and care as a rifle squad execution; some of those bullets are going straight through your heart, today. Have a care.
Having dwelled in his heaviest works, I was genuinely caught by surprise at how *funny* he is in person, and on stage. But they say comedy comes from a dark place, and that would certainly explain his talent for leaving us weeping, breathless wrecks in our seats one minute, and laughing ourselves silly the next.
[Koyczan] tugs and pulls your fondest memories from the back of your mind, only to word them in the most brutally eloquent way, and serve them right back to you in horrible, wonderful rhythm. What’s more, he’s funny as hell; it was half stand up, half unbelievable nostalgia of first loves, family, and that kind of friendship only comparable to photographs (developed) from a time we are finding harder and harder to recall.
The man is unlike anyone I’ve ever seen live. It was exhausting, liberating, and the kind of night that you walk into the street at the show’s end wanting to be a better person.
I don’t imagine you
saran-wrapped in black latex
or seeping out the edges
of something tight and red
I don’t close my eyes
to dream of your back
arched at the impossible angle
of a bow pulled tight
encouraging your shoulder blades
to drip the blood
of stockpiled broken hearts
but I hope the sound
of you not shielding your eyes
from my blinding humility
will one day top the charts
it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard
and you’re the charlie chaplin of your beautifuls
because you make me believe it
when you say it all without saying a word
looking at you it occurred to me
I could sit around all day
wearing nothing but your kiss
you make mirrors
want to grind themselves
back down into sand
because they can’t do your reflection justice
and this just in
I am done with those
who in life would have made me fight
an army of imperfections
a battalion of flaws
tonight we’re going to keep this city up
when they hear our bodies
slap together like applause.
