Meditation Over Prairie

If you don’t hear from me, everything’s fine. In pressurized, recumbent air, trans-continental, 38,000 feet above the fruited plain, America I bring you truer sustenance than food.  Careful, careful; everything here happens in the present tense. The word forgetful has no opposite but instinct: ketone stench of ditch-deer, ditch-dog.  Souring. Each humiliation, each indecisive moment. […]