the garden party of despair john dorsey the muse      of charles starkweather asked, " i don't like sensitive men are you at least                haunted?" "i went      down by the river      to cast my vote      at the garden party      of despair", i      said "which river?" she asked it is any river where words      float like a           sadness we call      her america a once      beautiful body of water     leased to                glory my soul      was drown in her      depths in search of      love and more than      once has been called                lazarus i've tasted      the salt on her                lips "maybe starkweather           could join us", i                said we could      dive in so deeply      that buried treasure would      be forced to search      for                us and immortality      would paint our names      in blood on the      balding forehead of the                sun and after      the manhunt we could      issue a joint statement      to the press which                read "in war      everyone becomes a patriot      and murder becomes harder      to                define"