David Earl Williams
sitting under a scorching sun,
actually, just six inches from its surface,
no sunglasses, nothing—
reading a burning newspaper,
eating a raw side of bloody Superman—
all by himself—
(I could only just hear him because his— AMAZING!---
Telepathic-Telephone Mind was calling me)---
and all the while shrinking, was he
like the Atomic Man.
And when he was done
he gathered up all his very tiny luggage
put it under one arm
pulled the Fable Curtain closed
and so was all the silverware,
the bonds, the gold coins—
and all our happiness,
so like a God was he.
David Earl Williams has been his alias since birth and he's not changing it. To be sure, you'd have to ask his mother and grandmothers to know the truth. But you can't ask them--- they're sleeping now with the Hopewell and Adena who want their land back from the Cherokee and the Shawnee once they've head-tripped it back from the, mostly, but not exclusively, European rejects who are sitting on it now. All that can be said about the alias for sure is that that it's a little like Mike Fink, King of the River Pirates--- it's fluid--- half water snake, half beaver, half bear, half alligator, half Blevins, half Fyffe, maybe, half Williams, maybe a little bit McCoy, (yes, those McCoys... and Bad John Phillips), if you can believe the 3rd cousins twice removed--- and probably, you can't...) Anyway, his I. D. is just like everybody else's--- it's being made up daily, cut like a suit to fit the dummy wearing it---or at least it is until somebody cries bullshit--- that doesn't belong to you, you narcissist !--- and makes it stick.--- But until then, David Earl Williams, he's just like you, Dear Reader--- he's one of a kind, and a representative of millions and the vessel of all their grievances and glory.