Letter to America
Dear America, This is crazy, this basket of suicide notes, these old shoeboxes crammed with losing lottery tickets, those pews out there full of worshippers speaking in tongue-twisters. And what about the rumored war in Bentonville, Arkansas going on between partisans of Baudelaire and Rimbaud, so much unmeasured shouting, come on, we each deserve a poetry prize. Where is Rod McKuen when we need him? I don’t even know what’s happening at Naropa anymore. I used to write my…
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