It's true, the signal implodes it goes where she goes the cogs all march along in perfect single file from beyond the grave where dead men relay synchronistic poems that call for civil unrest and here are the plans that you tied into knots and here are the props that were everything but so dancing with statues you sweetened the plot and this I bring to you and this I bring through you for days we replayed the play on stage after stage but never could decide on an intended meaning the town was corrupt, demanded of us a semi private showing for the master's daughter and here is the scene where I k** every god and bury them nameless in cemetery plots deliver the news to the public at large and this I bring to you and this I bring through you "i'm gonna start again" "start again?" we walked up to wind chime mountain to bury our old postcards she said: "I need to tell you about the 345 people you meet in purgatory and how I got sick of all these guardian angels with more problems than me" years before we lived in the hotel we both worked within where she attempted to write the great Canadian review of the great American novel a request from the 1st edition's introduction: the playwright wishes that you harangue the actors with pyramid scheme pitches during the encore. also, a real gun will be randomly fired into the audience during intermission. please enjoy. the curtain came down and the crowd rushed the stage we fled towards the airport through gunsmoke and haze our pa**ports revoked and the emba**y razed and this they brought to me and this they brought through me