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You wouldn't recognise an authentic American literary voice
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if it hissed in one ear and slithered out the other.
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Yet we know other things.
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It can much hurt to pick your teeth up with broke fingers.
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Is that your imagination's limit, you mental oyster?
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I can conjure a multitude of more exquisite torments.
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Your eyeballs dissolving in a teaspoon of lye!
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Your tongue torn from your throat with a blacksmith's tongs!
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An enema of boiling tar! A testicle impaled on a kebab skewer!
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Get out, you shit!
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Slowly. Here.
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Put her down.