More in Dregs & Other Unreadables
okefenoke swamp
I will never forget the miles of dead threes
And the brown waters of the swamp
We all sat
And ticked each mile in our head
In hopes of more alive than this dead dead place
Where dead-eyed alligators
and swarms of insects rule
over the stench of the rotting plants
that sing a dirge to flesh falling from bones.
How many years until I am that swamp?
It was morning,
But somehow much later there
And hopeless.
And the brown waters of the swamp
We all sat
And ticked each mile in our head
In hopes of more alive than this dead dead place
Where dead-eyed alligators
and swarms of insects rule
over the stench of the rotting plants
that sing a dirge to flesh falling from bones.
How many years until I am that swamp?
It was morning,
But somehow much later there
And hopeless.
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