Skinnyboy crimes were exhibition, a horse a car, ammunition. Fire below the waist –
a non-murderous trait. … shoot the horse between the eyes. … let the boat fly-to the sky. Jump the fence, swim the river, you look pretty good wet or dry.
The Skinnyboy has it all. Or does he? Who is he? Victim? Attacker? Avenger? Does it matter? He’s the Skinnyboy.
Long live the rabbits – the creator of his habits. Hopping the trail. A surreal wail of pain. Woven. Sewn. Tied Twisted. Hurled high above his head.
Until he is dead.
Long live the Skinny Boy.
Fish Eye Farm 