A post entitled "Norway" but should be called "China"

One time I went to Norway. I could tell you this. This is something that's possible. Like moroseness is an emotion, or people have lunch.

One time I went to Norway. I could honestly tell you this, but I'd be lying. Deep in my heart I am a terrible coward, and nobody will ever really love me. I've been to Norway. I have went there, okay? I didn't.

I am an unrecognizable sea-species dying in a Chinatown fish store. Why do Chinese people (They exist, O.K.?) like slimy flotsam from the insipid sea? Living living livid, I tell you. Dirt would be too clean a smell. FISHY is too poor a way to describe a putrid potpie of fish innards grossing.

[NOW I SHIFT GEARS]
Oil from the fires of yesteryear paintings of the everglade. Beneath the mention is

the lynchpin to freedom--free doom. Doom for one and all;
after glade and the misery up cometh
down the grotto to the blade
with her mystery, & so forth.

Yes, I believe in Red and Blue (&white)
stripes the halls the decks of glory.
Why can't I write like I want to? Like
A canvas is white at first I hate when people say they're blank.
They're only blank if white canvas surface a surface is not white white
not a surface not white not a surface.

Can you see what I'm saying? Words
written into a machine appearing
on a screen--Meaning Can you see
what I'm saying? Pent valves of
spry cigarettes these Chinese smoke
every goddam alleyway, every shopcorner
every moment is a cigarette waiting to be drawled
dolled about longing children fawning talking
don't know what they are saying.

They cannot spell like me.