[My throat caught on the air the prop was swallowing and
like an emetic it returned to its nascent atmosphere with
anxious haste. if the sky ever turns black like this
again I think I will lay up the drywall and leave my
body, build a fortress of abstractions and pass into the
sky. not for escape, not for ignorance, but for
responsibility and autoretribution. the coal is in my
elbows.]