I'm glad you liked it. You're not the only one with complicated feelings about the United States. One of my favorite poems is by James Wright - The Flying Eagles of Troop 62. It's a great poem, you can find it online, but if you don't have the time to look it up, here's the final paragraph.
I'm glad you liked it. You're not the only one with complicated feelings about the United States. One of my favorite poems is by James Wright - The Flying Eagles of Troop 62. It's a great poem, you can find it online, but if you don't have the time to look it up, here's the final paragraph.
"When I think of Ralph Neal's name, I feel some kind of ice breaking open in me. I feel a garfish escaping into a hill spring where the crawdads burrow down to the pure bottom in hot weather to get the cool. I feel a rush of long fondness for that good man Ralph Neal, that good man who knew us dreadful and utterly vulnerable little bastards better than we knew ourselves, who took care of us better than we took care of ourselves, and who loved us, I reckon, because he knew damned well what would become of most of us, and it sure did, and he knew it, and he loved us anyway. The very name of America often makes me sick, and yet Ralph Neal was an American. The country is enough to drive you crazy."
I'm glad you liked it. You're not the only one with complicated feelings about the United States. One of my favorite poems is by James Wright - The Flying Eagles of Troop 62. It's a great poem, you can find it online, but if you don't have the time to look it up, here's the final paragraph.
"When I think of Ralph Neal's name, I feel some kind of ice breaking open in me. I feel a garfish escaping into a hill spring where the crawdads burrow down to the pure bottom in hot weather to get the cool. I feel a rush of long fondness for that good man Ralph Neal, that good man who knew us dreadful and utterly vulnerable little bastards better than we knew ourselves, who took care of us better than we took care of ourselves, and who loved us, I reckon, because he knew damned well what would become of most of us, and it sure did, and he knew it, and he loved us anyway. The very name of America often makes me sick, and yet Ralph Neal was an American. The country is enough to drive you crazy."