The Revolver in the Hive

String Theory

String Theory Some sort of baroque cascaded through the window. The air was full of violence, but you wouldn’t know it. A cathedral grew out of my arm. I tended to it with the extract of root, then I rooted it out with a switch. Then I buried the fucker at the riverbank. Then it grew into a cathedral. They said it was a baroque cathedral. I took communion there, before it grew too dangerous. It was full of chalk outlines, the outlines of habits and rosary beads— the result of a baroque violence. Thereafter, I took my communion at the river, by the portion of the river where the river oxbowed. I buried the rosary at the riverbank. Then I broke the river. 57 ...