“Please note your rot. No one online does.” Sean Kilpatrick’s tour of American ruin pulls through Atlanta, GA and ends up in a boxing bar near the airport, contemplating how it feels to be a human amid humans.
In the second edition of his catalog of American ruin, Sean Kilpatrick carries his Detroit blood into Williamsburg: “But here bled such searchlight wonders, fumeless in the concoction lungs afford. They assigned my oxygen a DJ.”
The first of an ongoing series by Detroit native Sean Kilpatrick, in which the author takes work as a door-to-door fundraiser in a city already in the midst of immeasurable decay.
Sean Kilpatrick provides commentary on two works of media that have influenced his writing, including his latest, Gil the Nihilist.