Mechanically Separated Chicken.

Friday, June 14, 2002


The carpet is full of electricity; his shoes also. He holds them up to the light and sees a blue shadow.

Five minutes, to the deli and back. The dog follows as far as the corner; it wants your peppermints.

I think you're getting uglier; just thought you should know.

Grass, like a cloud of green gas, rises up from the mower. He kicks it and it starts again.

There are no awards for intensity. If you want applause, learn magic tricks.