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It's always weird to hear about it the month after I've finished celebrating. I still haven't come up with a new avatar. Ah well, fuck it, I'm going to shoot some holes in paper black people.

February is the cruellest month, breeding
Negroids out of the dead land, mixing
fried chicken and desire, stirring
watermelon rinds with spring rain.
January kept us warm, covering
Earth in caucasoid snow, feeding
A little life with velveeta and Dannon yogurt.


Summer surprised us, coming over the Hudson
with a Justin Timberlake song; we stopped in the welfare line,
And went on in sunlight, into ...