In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

97 hymn Of the flies Orchestrated in the ears, treacly sheen of the face, prairie of the arms. They arrive where you arrive, on either side of a worthless screen or frantic on the bitten trail, another god to devour. They come singing. Slap yourself, and again, a welting percussion. One crushed life returns as two, as four, as twelve. The body stumbles— their hungry attentions keep it moving. At the ears again the frantic hard music, mission song against skin. Choir of flesh, chorus of blood. What choice but accept this brutal worship, cross with muttered curses— a hopeless prayer to the wind. ...

Share