what a tasty texture
brought forth from the other
sweet river water
scent as if anti-grave
the last libertine defenders
gather to prey on ant mounds of fire creatures
the brown deserts
the stain of violent content
patch of grass insertions painfully
distant loss without curiosity
sacred treks to land of possum
witchcraft in the age of assimilation
movements of the incarnate livers
iguana spells meant to impose darkness
they that heard the numbers tumble
in grey sheets amidst the dawn screaming
you spawn inside squirming salmon
making the way downstream