au moment où j'étais là
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the empty hand of innocence transfusing street of the sorrows and children of the wood hounded shredding all veils unwinding all sheets of the dead world droning overturning tables laden with silver sacrificial birds beating goatskin drums advancing with hands outstretched and we keep filling them with mercury nitrate asbestos baby bombs blasting blue scavengers picking through the ashes children of the mills children of the junkyards sleepy illiterate fuzzy little rats haunted paint sniffing stoned out of their shaved heads forgotten foraging mystical children foul-mouth glassy-eyed hallucinating...