It always gets me with a warm place in my heart each Thanksgiving, as it gives us all a chance to remember things that we are thankful for. For myself on the list is the poem “Thanksgiving Day, Nov. 28, 1986″ by William S. Burroughs, someone whom should be held up in esteem with the likes of Robert Frost, Carl Sandburg and Maya Angelou as one of the greatest American poets and artists.
This poem first appears in his chapbook Tornado Alley that was published in 1989. The book and the poem were dedicated to the late American outlaw John Dillinger. It was not until later that Gus Van Sant produced the short patrioticly dark film version of Burroughs reading his own text, which is attatched to the left of this article for interested readers.
The words of this testment are more poignant than ever today. It remains to be seen this morning, if I will be asked to revise or edit this article due to the controversial nature of a few words within the text itself. As is fitting, Burroughs utters the now forbidden N-word in his droll cadence. A word that cannot even be uttered in ironic phrase, sarcastic tone, or character of any kind today. It would be odd that in this era, Burroughs might never have been able to publish this poem, in fact we might disregard his entire body of work for such attrocities. Of course I understand that for the majority, there is good reason why the word has been set upon by linguistic limitations. Most of us could not use it with anything other than hatred or ignorance behind our words. Only in rare situations can it be used effectively by anyone it seems. I suppose Willie Burroughs or perhaps John and Yoko are the few who are allowed a pass on this literary travesty. But not for rednecks, republicans or white fraternity boys, and certainly not neo-Nazis and skinheads.
Even so, as you ready yourself to take on whatever is the rituals that you do on this greatest of American holidays, I think all of us should take a two minute and twenty-five seconds of silence. Take this brief period to listen to the man who maybe the greatest American novelist, social critic, spoken word performance artist, avant garde revolutionary and unwitting leader of a lost generation, the author of this Thanksgiving Prayer, the late William S. Burroughs.
For John Dillinger
In hope he is still alive
Thanksgiving Day, November 28, 1986
Thanks for the wild turkey and the passenger pigeons,
Destined to be shit out through wholesome American guts.
Thanks for a continent to despoil and poison.
Thanks for Indians to provide a modicum of challenge and danger.
Thanks for vast herds of bison to kill and skin leaving the carcasses to rot.
Thanks for bounties on wolves and coyotes.
Thanks for the American dream,
To vulgarize and to falsify until the bare lies shine through.
Thanks for the KKK.
For nigger-killin’ lawmen, feelin’ their notches.
For decent church-goin’ women, with their mean, pinched, bitter, evil faces.
Thanks for “Kill a Queer for Christ” stickers.
Thanks for laboratory AIDS.
Thanks for Prohibition and the war against drugs.
Thanks for a country where nobody’s allowed to mind their own business.
Thanks for a nation of finks.
Yes, thanks for all the memories—all right let’s see your arms!
You always were a headache and you always were a bore.
Thanks for the last and greatest betrayal of the last and greatest of human dreams.
Happy Thanksgiving to everyone in Arizona and the United States today.
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