Τρίτη 24 Ιουλίου 2018

177. DANIEL C. BOYER - POST OFFICE STORIES


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

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