Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Thousand: Two Hundred Thirty-One

there dead about? I wouldn’t know dead. Dead is done, isn’t it? What is dead going to do with tears! The day is measured out in soup spoons, coffee cups, ampoules, and seed pods. We carry our houses on our heads, the rain sloughing off the shingles, sluicing down the gutters onto the nice shirts our mothers pressed for us. Frankly, I think you are too tall. 3900 feet and rising? My name is Samuel P. Good4U. Isn’t. A new tolerance shall be construed over the objections of sundry restrictionists. The nice thing about asceticism is the et. It’s the

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