fried chickens

Peter Fruchter Aug 22, 1995

here's a poem inspired by the jpg you sent... hope you enjoy. love, me.

Alchemists don't know.
They invoke Hermitioan Operators
to project their questions
into nature's secret subspaces.

It's a comic cloak
and slapstick dagger routine;
all questions are answered
'definitely maybe'.

Operators never commit themselves..

it's OK,
the alchemists don't want to know.


Mentalists don't understand.
They invoke syntactic demons
to capture certitude
in arrangements of terms.

It's a joke
that no one laughts at;
with certitude
only confusion is captured.

The demons can't realize
it's people that mean,
not words..

that's OK,
the mentalists don't want to understand.


Last night I had a dream,
you know?
I think
you'll understand...

He was chained,
bleeding his guts out,
and bored.

He opened his hand and
gave me a glimpse
of the stars
blinking
in his palm.

"But I need a good laugh,"
he said.
"It's been a while..."

Then he showed me..
sort of a cartoon.
He'd chiseled it,
with his fingernails,
in the rock.
He called it
'Prometheus Brings Fire to the Chickens'.

It was funny at the time.


But this morning...

This morning I realized
he's going to take it back.
And he's going to take it
back all in one go.

He's kind'a pissed.

And he needs a good laugh.

Peter Fruchter Wed, 23 Aug 1995 13:37


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