All the chickens come on home to roost
Plump bodies blotting out the sky
You know it breaks my heart in half, in half
When I see them trying to see them fly
'Cuz you just can't do
Things your body wasn't meant to.
—The Mountain Goats, "Dilaudid"If you read it, you remember that last Sunday's post about long-term projects, "When to Not Persist," was kind of a downer. I had to 'fess up to having drifted away from my book project ambitions (in my fellowship we call it "going back out," i.e.