I'm So Insane, I Voted For Eisenhower.

All That Five Thousand Kids Lived In Those Five Thousand Houses, Owned By Guys That Got Off The Train. The Houses Looked So Much Alike That, Time And Time Again, The Kids Went Home By Mistake To Different Houses And Different Families. Nobody Ever Noticed.

The Flock Gets Sight Of A Spot Of Blood On Some Chicken And They All Go To Peckin' At It, See, Till They Rip The Chicken To Shreds, Blood And Bones And Feathers. But Usually A Couple Of The Flock Gets Spotted In The Fracas, Then It's Their Turn. And A Few More Gets Spots And Gets Pecked To Death, And More And More. Oh, A Peckin' Party Can Wipe Out The Whole Flock In A Matter Of A Few Hours, Buddy, I Seen It. A Mighty Awesome Sight. The Only Way To Prevent It—with Chickens—is To Clip Blinders On Them. So's They Can't See.

Turns Me On So Loud It's Like No Sound, Everybody Yelling At Me Hands Over Their Ears From Behind A Glass Wall, Faces Working Around In Talk Circles But No Sound From The Mouths. My Sound Soaks Up All Other Sound.

We Made Love. How Pedestrian The Words Look-trite, Worn, Practically Featureless With Use-but How Can One Better Describe That Which Happens When It Happens? That Creation? That Magic Blending? I Might Say We Became Figures In A Mesmerized Dance Before The Rocking Talisman Of The Moon, Starting Slow, So Slow... A Pair Of Feathers Drifting Through Clear Liquid Substance Of Sky... Gradually Accelerating, Faster And Faster And Finally Into Photon Existence Of Pure Light... As My Whole Straining Body Burst Like Fluid Electricity Into Hers.

The Reverberation Often Exceeds Through Silence The Sound That Sets It Off; The Reaction Occasionally Outdoes By Way Of Repose The Event That Stimulated It; And The Past Not Uncommonly Takes A While To Happen, And Some Long Time To Figure Out.