The decision to discourse， to take<br >the written word and run with it，<br >presupposes a dilemma in these days，<br >language having lost all referent to reality:<br >the television pundits fan the flames<br >of scandals and conflicts that<br >never existed， and the intellectuals<br >moralize on the Holocaust and the moralists<br >of the Holocaust collide with the moralists<br >ofViet Nam over what to do about<br >the atrocities in Bosnia: meanwhile<br >in Rwanda another bloodbath has arisen<br >just in the last month or so and<br >at this rate one side will have<br >annihilated the other before the United Nations<br >Security Council even convenes， none of which<br >I really care to think about， I d prefer<br >to sit here listening to Johnny play<br >surf music on the radio and forget<br >about the rest of History， ifI had<br >some drugs I d probably get high<br >and not have to think about World War II<br >let alone World War 1]I (the Russians aren~<br >going to drop the bomb after all;<br >World War HI is not like the Holocaust，<br >it s like Vietnam happening everywhere<br >at once) you Can~ blame a guy<br >for wanting to hide，<br >and anyway<br >this isn~ the poem I would have<br >wanted to write， I wanted to create<br >a private inner world， I wanted to<br >write like Keats & Wordsworth & Dylan Thomas<br >where the rapture of nature exploding out<br >of intricately organized syllables， or maybe<br >like Charles Baudelaire indulging in narcotic<br >sexual visions but I m worried<br >about AIDS and anyway I don~ want<br >