Like a nimble bangtail, I like scalping people while they're still standing, they all have this dumb look on their face, like they can't believe this is happening, it's happening, bloody stumps and broken skulls, like a half naked savage on the warpath today, beware. I live out among the ruins of old stone walls, ugly brown rock and yellow dust, the tall mud church and blue islands of some old and violent storm in a jar.
I watch the insane buffalo lumber along the soft hills and shadows of bleak grassy knolls, my barbarous tongue out, decapitated lust, I will break their bones with an elk shin, click my teeth, they will bend forever as if in prayer, faces coal-black as a mule, blood from the ears, a grim and stupid smile, the dark and bludgeoned bruises beyond the approaching dawn, a herd of skeletal horses appearing in the densely fading murk.