Pieces of people are falling like slaughterhouse rain, a plane crash, arms and legs in the trees, sad umbrellas and severed feet. Search the graves and debris, a seat, more guts and people picking through the jeans, toes and a window, stones and rubble, blood and a blob of fat, a gun, a shark-bit chunk inside a derby hat, a carousel cart and small flower in the empty chamber, morning breaks and the red demons howl and hiss, piss themselves at such a delight.