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.

MR

2020-0113