John Grey
The language applies equally to the telephone-poled west coast. and the overpowering belief that city waste is another word for Disneyland – singing, rambling, ending at the wordless train parade while a bald eagle grins because it once ate its way through a nest of rats – ah, the joy of blonde moons, coal-hopping raven, creosote bushes, crucified nostrils – all these words, perfect for the sick lover of a planet. heart-beating, eyes weeping like holocaust and Lincoln’s cabin or dope raids at Little Big Horn – I’ll stick with English thanks from trochee to arcadian forest, mine collapse to Supreme court, umpteenth time to only the once – it’s all one big wonder mansion to be put through the literary wringer - believe me, I’ve been drunk from less.