Nate Pritts Archives

Smoking Glue Gun
46 pages, $8

Review by Jen Lambert

What’s the word for when you’ve been doing something your whole life, like, let’s say walking, and suddenly you become so very aware of how you do it, maybe you put more weight on your left foot or you land on the balls of your feet just so, and now that you know this, you can never, ever walk the same way again? Now, the way you move is altered, and you can feel it with every step you take. What is the word for what this walking has become? This book is full of this word.

Pattern Exhaustion, by Nate Pritts, is everything I fear, the collapse of what I know and expect and the period after, the fumbling, the tripping through, until the new becomes the known. Maybe it’s everything we all fear: a brokenness, an unraveling of the familiar. Pattern Exhaustion is a manifesto on how to learn to be human when you are already human, or maybe it’s a lesson on the recovery of being too human, a nervous breakdown of the mind and the heart, the softening of everything we know until we don’t even recognize our own bodies, until we are empty, until we ask “how do I love when there is no one there?” Continue reading →

~ by C.L. Bledsoe

H_NGM_N BKS

100 pgs/$24.95

There’s an immediacy to Pritts’ title but also a bit of gibberish in it. It smacks of a slogan, well-meaning but also empty. And couldn’t so many of our most meaningful and important life moments be reduced to slogans, sadly? Throughout this collection, Pritts expounds on the idea of presence, of being part of his own life, of not just observing but really experiencing and interacting with those he cares about, but at the same time he mocks his own efforts, refusing to take himself too seriously or allow himself to venture into the realm of “preciousness.” He is (trying to be) “here” right now more than ever, as in present in THE present, but the spotlight he’s shining on these efforts is also a little silly, as he tells us by mocking at the same time he recognizes its importance. Basically, it’s nothing special to be present in one’s own life (everyone does it, theoretically), but that doesn’t make it any more important. This mocking also smacks a bit of self-defense: if it isn’t special, then it also shouldn’t be that scary, perhaps.

In “Talking About Autumn Rain” Pritts begins:

I hereby submit this yellow leaf as my charter,
wet & preserved under snowpack – Syracuse
blunt, a backyard bluster of stark white –

though it’s early December which means it’s
autumn & the rains that rain & melt the snow
are still autumn rains. Sirs: This application contains

six parts – a missing casement, two atria, two
vehicles & respected sobbings. Also,
more than a gallon of blood. Please wear gloves

when handling to ensure proper emotional distance
from the exploding world I can’t make sense
of…

Pritts’ exploding world is the world outside the mind which he may have “railed against/ in the bright sunshine of [his] morning li[fe]” (as he states later in the poem) but now, as he’s apparently gotten older and gained some life experience, he’s begun to make peace with it. I’m reminded of Robin Williams’ character The King of the Moon, in The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, who has split his head from his body in order to pursue the life of the mind separate from the body, which runs around humping things. But as with the King, one must eventually rejoin the mind to the body or else miss out on much of what life has to offer. Continue reading →

Nate Pritts

[REVIEW] Pattern Exhaustion, by Nate Pritts

[REVIEW] Right Now More Than Ever, by Nate Pritts