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Ectoslavian Chant

Be leery of the unstabable man on the fast tractor.

There are plenty of people walking across fields in

early winter, with only one arm, looking for their

high school class ring.


My wife lay ill for weeks. I opened every window

to let the dust and moonshine in, and she got out.

I buried her at the bottom of the big brown

puddle in the driveway.

When winter comes I will skate on her grave.


Some of the peasants claim to travel as far as twenty

miles away during their sleep.

You can’t keep them down.


I’ll be a rich man by harvest, then I’ll send for you, my treasure.

I’ll bring you here to Ectoslavia,

and give it to you square on your thick little mouth.