S.M.H. 日 04/06/2019 · admin No comments



the bloated deer eyes open mouth wagging tongue lolling soft on the
grass eyes glazed with the dream of dead earth

in the rug of its fur
maggots writhed a vision
in the beatitude of scorched flesh
i watched the maggots move
i saw the deer look out
into the world beyond the world

maggots burned gold they squirmed in holy light they squirmed holy
they ate through the flesh putrid and strange they showed what
light there was in dying what fertility in rot what breeding springs

in the matted glen
under a sky grey as nails
i knelt next to the open mouth
to the body i laid my lips

i sought to taste

the strangeness of dying
i sought to see
what the eyes
of deadmilk
did see

in the purgatory of time,
i gagged for a vision

the dark wood glowed
like the orange coils of
an electric lantern
like a coal
deep red
in its waning



in the deathblaze

of noon

a fox


in the mange

of white sun

its fur


to blood

in the running



a white horse
raped of color
sat on its haunches
shitting down
the strong
of its leg

it shits in terror of what lies beyond this dream land bent with
neighing white foam from mouth flying into wind body loosed garbled
sound hard boiled and vomiting panic mane flowing waves neighing fear
mane catching wind like kites catching wind mane flowing into the
unfolding of its world
plunging towards waste mane caught wind like sparks pale cut of moon
drenched flesh braided into the black pearled stone

in the tusk of earth
horse savagely filled this dream with dying

S.M.H. is a writer working in the interstitial spaces of fear, death and faith. They live in the mid-atlantic. They currently have two books out from VoidFront Press.