Whiskey & Rust
- The carrion birds sat about the topmost corners of the houses with their wings outstretched in attitudes of exhortation like dark little bishops.
- Grave Nails & Blood Trails (version II)
- Perhaps in the world’s destruction it would be possible at last to see how it was made. Oceans, mountains. The counterspectacle of things ceasing to be. The Sweeping waste, hydronic and coldly secular. The Silence.
