The swamp claws its way through the mud. Water moccasin waking late in the winter’s artful sun. Hiding in the putrid belly of the forsaken shade of the brown-haired trees, he lay gazing. He sees in black and white. Stalking prey with a proud skinny neck and blockish head, he hunts. Choctaw child, feet raw…
Category: swamp
“I Linger” Now Live on MasticadoresIndia
water wrinklesspeaking calmly to mewildly I hunt amid ageless cypress treesflooded with water, their twisted kneesdevour traveling fresh airbecoming yawning stalactitesat night, crimson embers fly skywardas fireflies graze between pinesepochs old as men eat flesh from elk To continue reading please go to MasticadoresIndia ( now called ChewersMasticadores ), please consider subscribing, sharing and liking…
