In the morning Man was all creaky and cold and he smelled like canvas soaked with whiskey. He rode his horse whose name was Horse. The sun was red on the hoodoos and buttes. A tribe of Apache was holding a fair. The big attraction was the discarded casing of a space rocket, because this was the apocalypse, or because time is like a NASCAR race track, zooming and ovoid and ever repeating ever more. Man rode Horse to the rocket casing and Horse pranced around it and then the Apaches starting eating caramel apples so Man shot them in their faces and hearts. He put a bunch of hearts on a lance and rode that way to The Fort and sat before The Fort eating the hearts and ruminating on the meaning of life.
A human woman came to him and spoke. She said, “Is there God inside of Man?”
And Man said, “God is inside of a peach tree, but, nay, never in Man.”
They love-made and her belly was full of babies.
Later, Man looked at a book and unto it he put his thoughts and dreams and it became a one-eyed worm with six arms. It said, “We are ever and never and all and naught.”
Man nodded because this confirmed his ruminations. Later a wolf howled and the sound spiraled in Man’s soul.