I saw Vietnam an innocent country bound up and gagged by bullets and napalm only on news shows: An electronic flickering of black and white villages raped by fires, filtered over to America through a cameras eye. English-speaking voices impersonal and staccato, droned on over gunfire as wild eyed, quivering families darted from their huts- (bomb-split) many of them gnawed at by suicide and death, into a sky of black rain. I tuned out the sound and watched the running, the grey blood in silence, as my perceptions whispered to me that this was rote injustice, an historical turmoil that seemed to be the end of life itself.
