There was a little man
Who wandered far and wide
Across broad plains
Sludged through snowy passes
Sweat every drop on arid sand
Rafted twisted rivers
Searching for the pearl of great price
Only to return and find it
At the threshold of his tiny home

This is the place in which it seems to me,
most white Americans find themselves Impaled.

They are dimly, or vividly,
aware that the history they have fed themselves
is mainly a lie, but they do not
know how to release themselves from it,
and they suffer enormously from the personal
incoherence”