solar

The further you go to the east, the closer to the spot where the Sun rises
(and don’t tell me fairy tales about the actual shape of the Earth),
the more vicious reality becomes, the more you hear ear-splitting barking
and the footsteps of the importunate specters, anonymous like the best poets.
Alexander the Great could have told you very much about it, and this is the reason why
Columbus sailed to the west, stretching the day as a side effect.
If he had chosen the opposite direction, he would have discovered a different America:
cannibalistic Anasazi still around, Incan zombies, unconquerable Aztecs,
the abodes of humongous animals painted with the iridescent blood of the gods,
animals that had been far beyond the word fun, far beyond even now,
when the ceilings they are gazing at don’t have any decorations.
Every NHL game would end with a sacrifice, every glance would reveal
acres and acres of cursed land teeming with radioactive mosquitoes,
Sasquatches waiting on the tyrants, languages full of abbreviations,
missile silos and churches and not a soul for miles.

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