Wednesday, June 17, 2020

Overread at Booth 4: A Selection from "American Leaves"

So I had this in my journal, that is, I was writing it in my journal, and this is what I got...

It is to you I make my desolate way,
America, imbued with the 
               sunny stillness
of gathering and reaping of
              that which you have not sown.
Your towers are pilloried,
Your temples are in vapors!
You have cast away any
               pretense of true faith
for some dime-store
               snake oil religion.


And at that point, I was interrupted, as usual, by my wife, who was working on an email to her boss and needed me to check her spelling.


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