“The son I never had”

It is my belief that, as a rule, creatures of Happy’s ilk–I am thinking here of canines and men both–more often run free than live caged, and it is in fact a world of mud and feces they desire, a world with no Art in it, or anyone like him, a place where there is no talk of books or God or the worlds beyond this world, a place where the only communication is the hysterical barking of starving and hate-filled dogs.

— Joe Hill, from “Pop Art,” 20th Century Ghosts (2005)