Tuesday, December 20, 2005

To My Stalemate (Part 1)
“I don’t like creamy peanut butter, but I like minimalism.”

Judging a society on what happens to a man passed out on a park bench. Nearly always looking next to nothing, your army doesn’t seem to mind. I write to need you. If you count blowing on my hands as good news, productivity, alright. That Labrador you want to name Buckminster Fuller is a Labradoodle. Being chased by someone with your own wallet, like a hot spring, part of the tourism, like a folder for “holy shit.”Here hear my generation’s Pernod.

1 Comments:

Blogger Jordan said...

ooh, this is good stuff!

10:35 PM  

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