Let's workshop this poem about US soldiers afflicted by the tormenting strains of the Vietnam War, and the disturbing barbarities those strains permit them to commit in good conscience
“We need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us.”—Kafka (against the safe-space cancel culture pushed by anti-art bullies, left and right).
