of filling stations and a few lonely street lamps among the fields you climb the hills towards newton hamilton past the fuse forest beneath the stars. along that road a high bare pilgrim's track where sweeney fled before the bloodied heads gold beards and dogs eyes in a demon pack blazing out of the ground snapping and squealing. what lays ahead of you. the faked a road block. the red lamp swung the sudden brakes and stalling engine voices heads who did and the cold nosed gone. are in your driving mirror tailing headlights. the put it out suddenly and flagged you done where you went no home and far from what you knew. the lol and clayson waters of last pagg church island spire its soft tree line of you. there you once heard guns fired behind the house long before rising time when doc choosers haunted the merry goldson who rushes. but still were scared to find spent cartridges akron brassy genital objected. on your way across the strand to fetch the connors. for you and yours and yours and mine fought shy spoke an old language of conspirators and could not crack the whip or seeds the day. big v