Medicine finished.Therapy walk done.Smudged and saged before the fire horse arrives

Monday 09.02.26

Ethan

He laid down the rope, like the old crescent of a moon. Death had come to him/ them. He breathed it in through his lips and above his hands, into the white silvering of his beard. He in shirt sleeves, Waist high in an open grave, burying or reclaiming something. Putting the idea of some woman in the ground. The things that can't be dug up. Maybe it doesn't mean anything, as he chews tobacco. Handsome for his age, as he moves the earth, the crumble, of dirt, made flesh. Moved for the second or third time, for they will not sleep, and nobody else will touch them. The four slain sons that were gunned down. MB

10.02.26

The drape of the world, as it stinks behind it's own curtain, gripped by the sullen, those hopeless causes that mourn,the flood of the sorrow, those bruising ropes, against which we all lean, falling over things that no longer hold, the delusions, that break through,these drowned parts,built upon, the weary travelling of old ideas,the hopes that drowned, the bastions of our, unlived souls. MB

11.02.26

Karamoochy had fallen, wide in the upside down push to empty. Undone in the blackness, drunk through with the void, the limits without end within that eternal noiseless stillness, that spoke only of something older, bigger and emptier, than what was in his head. And as he floated, sinking outwards what did he feel? regret? Remember in the darkness? In that slow sink out towards the rim. MB

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