Читать книгу Kornwolf - Tristan Egolf - Страница 8

… tearing through bull-thistle, jimsonweed, supplejack—brittle with mid-autumn coming of frost—and of pulsating crimson, appendages thwarted and stumbling, slam into fallen timber, as worm-ridden slick with organic decay—to meandering blindly through goldenrod, inkberry, sheep laurel, bladdernut, Solomon’s seal—a prickling rash of woodland nettles—cries emanating from lurch of within, as of burning in flame now, at once underfoot—down embankment and plunging headlong into watercress, chilly with runoff from fertilized fields, and of crippling thirst satiated in excess—then up again, scrambling, mud on the incline, a jagged escarpment, then over to stillness …

Gulping of air / equilibrium reeling as pounding inside, as of inner combustion …

… a sharp edge of sassafras borne on the wind—and of chimney smoke, rising from miles in the distance—and rosemary, slash pine, chicory, hemlock—replete with a tang of synthetic emissions … And traces of crimson in putrefaction … Of hunger awakened to ravenous burning … Responding—by light of the moon, with intent now—through corn-cockle, snakeroot and billowing milkweed to wax-myrtle, buckthorn and snapping of aster—then out to a rolling expanse of stubble … with shackles unbridled—elation of freedom, release and ahead, moving / charging—amok …

Into blackness.

… then routing through pestilent cubicle—vinegar, trappings and fat of the lamb—in a large metal box full of scum-lining, refuse and sourly rancid, fermented barley—a groaning of door hinges, outside … Footsteps … Crossing of pavement … The roar of ignition … A panning of lantern light, sweeping the property … Leaving … Then back to the gristle of crimson …

More blackness.

To voices now: haltingly. Startled …

… the sweet smell of fear and confusion …

Retreat …

… cries of alarm from behind, fading quickly … return to the stubble, and darkness enveloping / stars overhead in a shower of pinpoints—onward proceeding, alive in the night …