Saturday, November 24, 2007


From Thick Clouds of Skirting Green: "I loved television then, especially in upstate New York, or the time I stopped by a marginal America. Have I said that my father has never struck his children? How little anyone knew of toothache colors & textures therein. He was struck in the muck, struck in the muck. A cosmetic medication, a cosmic mediation: this image has bothered you for years, but I don’t want to look into those eyes. Retreat into silence, approach the DVD player. One group of white people gathered around a burned black body & their angular comments surrendered homecomings into day-long orgies. We get what we need. We color the time of day" (Rahm 186).

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