[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.]