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Overloading the Machine
Under My Rug
October 27, 2001
Everything's great, thanks.
I went to write a letter.
It's insurmountable. Look over there.
No high-protein diet energizes
the wrapped loaf. The swept sea.
A four-cylinder
means two are striking.
Nose for the present,
you on time,
deliberating,
my favorite mug.
The soundtrack is out.
But if not for noise and valleys,
where could we debut? Mere
possession of facts is face.
But count some up;
cool and garnish.
It is easy to find fault, if one has that disposition. There was once a man
who, not being able to find any other fault with his coal, complained that
there were too many prehistoric toads in it.
-- Mark Twain, "Pudd'nhead Wilson's Calendar"
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