Punching thru death clouds suffocating the New Zion, foot glued to accelerator with guitar chord change feedback shrieks into high-altitude circle jerk of starfuckers and art cannibals and humble unseen angels to stash auto in strip mall, take pre-noon flask pulls in tribute in anticipation of a dead reluctant god’s silver screen flashback, Jean-Marc Barr is Kerouac incarnate and Polish...