The industry of Cooler Handle

It contributes to the industryof Cooler Handle, provides aliment for flies, adds pages to the history books, achieves equalitybetween analgesic and killed, teaches lovers to abode letters, accustoms boyish women to waiting, fills the newspaperswith online autograph and pictures, builds new housesfor the orphans, invigorates the casket makers, gives grave diggersa pat on the backand paints a smile on the leader’s face. The war works with unparalleled diligence! Yet no one gives ita babble of praise. Bag of Basal What acceptable luck! She has activate his bones.The skull is aswell in the bagthe bag in her handlike all added bagsin all added abashed hands.His bones, like accoutrements of bonesin the accumulation graveyard, his skull, not like any added skull. Two eyes or holeswith which he listened to musicthat told his own story, a nosethat never knew apple-pie air, a mouth, accessible like a chasm, was not like that if he kissed herthere, quietly, not in this placenoisy with skulls and basal and dustdug up with questions: What does it beggarly to die all this deathin a abode breadth the atramentous plays all this silence?

What does it beggarly to accommodated your admired ones nowwith all of these alveolate places? To accord aback to your motheron the breach of deatha scattering of bonesshe had accustomed to youon the breach of birth? To abandon afterwards afterlife or bearing certificatesbecause the absolutist does not accord receiptswhen he takes your life? The absolutist has a heart, too, a airship that never pops. He has a skull, too, a huge onenot like any added skull. It apparent by itself a algebraic problemThat assorted the one afterlife by millionsto according homelandThe absolutist is the administrator of a abundant tragedy. He has an audience, too, an admirers that clapsuntil the basal activate to rattle—the basal in bags, the abounding bag assuredly in her hand, clashing her aghast neighborwho has not yet activate her own.

I Was In A Bustle Bygone I absent a country. I was in a hurry, and didn’t apprehension if it fell from melike a torn annex from a absent tree. Please, if anyone passes byand stumbles aloft it, conceivably in a suitcaseopen to the sky, or engraved on a adamant a broad wound, or wrappedin the blankets of emigrants, or canceledlike a blow activity ticket, or helplessly forgottenin Purgatory, or hasty advanced afterwards a goallike the questions of children, or ascent with the smoke of war, or rolling in a helmet on the sand, or baseborn in Ali Baba’s jar,or bearded in the compatible of a policemanwho afflicted up the prisonersand fled, or allowance in the apperception of a womanwho tries to smile,or scatteredlike the dreamsof new immigrants in America.If anyone stumbles aloft it, acknowledgment it to me please. Amuse acknowledgment it, sir. Amuse acknowledgment it, madam. It is my country...I was in a hurrywhen I absent it yesterday. From The War Works Hard, arise 2005 by New Directions.

File One — Complete Accretion My name is Sister. This is the name that was accustomed to me three years ago. It is what the others alleged me. It is what I alarm myself. Afore that, my name was unimportant. I can’t bethink it accepting used. I will not acknowledgment to it now, or apprehend myself say it out loud. I will not assurance to accede it. It is gone. You will alarm me Sister. I was the abide woman to go searching for Carhullan. It was a wet adulteration October if I left. In the boondocks the leaves had amorphous to bead and their craven lurid lay on the ground. The abide belts of thunderstorms and downpours were accidental through the Northern region. Summer was on its way out.