3705. McCLUNG GOT HUNG

McCLUNG GOT HUNG

(Staccatto Anew)

It should all be : fragmented by

justification : 'you are suspended

again on that tree and your rope-swing

is free and swinging.This is a wayward

Tuesday afternoon and, oh, will

your wife be waiting?'

-

I stayed around Valparaiso until I could

take no more : coffee like tar and peace

like war. I am convinced that nothing exists,

have I not told you before? Listen to this:

'the amazing thing about today's information

retrieval is, in itself, that it does not exist,

in actuality it picks from the ephemeral and

portrays it as real. It lets you 'track forward

through time'. Thank God, then, for abstracts.

Without access to them, I wouldn't know a thing.

-

It should all be. Nothing is. Why, please, am I

ever here? (And, just now, McClung got hung,

and I am at home here, with his wife. I feel 

that men have betrayed me, so many

dishonorable men).