Flensed, he yet lives; breathes, moves, poses in wet and bloody glory. Cobbled together from sawdust and stage makeup.
Thus:
Pirates along the Levantine coast, and a beautiful dark-eyed boy. Leopards on the foredeck, ivy on the oars. Dolphins roll in the wake, eyes dark and inhuman and rapacious. Tethys, world-girdling Tethys, is dark and deep, bitter as herbs.
or
Abandoned by god and his maker, a collection of corpses, he crouches in a woodshed, teaches himself English (how) and reading (why) from a half-used catalog from Sears and Roebuck. Shoes are expensive this year; there’s a slimming machine, a complicated bit of deadly nonsense jerryrigged together much as he is, all leather belts and sharp edges and ungrounded electricity. Outside a Christian and a Muslim are planning an elopement, but inside he dreams of capitalism.
and
Westward, from the cities to the plains to the mountains to the cities. Once the notional roads swallowed armies whole in mud deep enough to drown an elephant. A future president broke his back, cursing, hauling a truck through the mud, dreamt of a vast network of tar black as the sea, crushed rock knitting the ruins of empire together like the veins god put inside him, thick, slow, and inescapably seen.