The news about still
another dead relative was slit open by criminals who had torn a chatlouo ti
shreds and the news came from Arizona with its sharp trees and Gadsdena where
the dogs with swollen faces look out over the desert. It was covered up
for by liars who came out of cages under colourful murals that were not done
under the Works Progress Administration but they were like the colourful heads
of Indians and they reminded one of the diners to which the mailman delivered
bills decades ago but are now closed and papered over far from the sterile land
where the good-humoured saguaro laughs, a beer in one of his hands. The
hounds of unknown breed are black and brown and their hearts break and they
watch the dust settle over the glittering and distant mountains mounted by mad
scientists over the heads of whom fly black birds who do not deliver mail and
the dogs imagine the mailmen must have a delicious taste.
Daniel C. Boyer
New York
June 24, 2018
