THE NAME OF THE
LAND IS COTTON CANDY
All these mixed-up cards are confusing now : the
landscape seems made of silent maps. Everywhere
there are lines and caves and hollows and hills.
What dump-sweep master dreamed this up?
West Virginia has its cyclotron drama.
Delaware has its dream..
-
I don't care for anything anymore. Charley West,
it's all over. I took down the lamp from the barnyard
shelves, the place where, as it were, I 'found' you and
Lula embracing. The river was running right by your necks.
Conestoga, Monongahela, Sweetbriar and Shenandoah.
Water running, south, north, east and west
(your hand was on her chest).
-
For myself, I loved America when it was a problem,
not a solution. A wild, obstreperous child, not a
correctly-enamored gentility licking its own chops.
Now - fuck - I just hate everything I see : the carnivals
with no daring rides, the circus clowns with business
cards, the race-car drivers with their air-bag asses.
No one takes chances anymore on the Midway rides.
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