by Spencer Dunford I take blackberry tea with biscuits and read the world's news. Beyond the train's misty panes, a school bus, saltired in red and white halts unscathed, and children's screams rend the air like coarse cutters through tin. A van painted with "Revolution till Victory" detonates, like sodium in water, leaving ashes and a stripped, stained wheel. With tumbling intrusion, a military jeep fumbles, flings passengers like paper-pelted spiders, then burns— reminding me of my unwieldy juniper in Ohio.