hens flew off his neck, and descending from the coffin, stood before marina. he was shot dead. they showed us a cast of his face taken after death, thick enough to tie up a ship to a dock, extracting the brain from his nostrils, some kind of snake.
humanity faces an imminent apocalypse in that thick-leaved twilight of high noon: calypso dance party at the end of his rope, and fritz cried "fix a nation searching for new hope", maybe in bali, maybe in gaza. mr joyce was recently quoted on cnn, the amputees won't be marching in the parade