Connor Fisher
From Butcher
I watch by the shop, in proportion to the meatmonger, primal, primal cut or clot nicked open by grandfathers and fathers into a dense family linguistic body and thread of the knifeā€™s virile rip through the sound of animal fiber. The butcher functions inside. She makes the sound. The sound splits and spills through her frame, its own history, a parting gift to old unity.