This machete is for arm and jungle. No way is given like a sentence to plot. Leaking happily with fragrant sap, I go. I went early one morning before morning, still part yesterday, that drew out time for greater losses. I gave a stack of scribbled notes its sunrise to drunkenness and fleecings by entertainment and nightwork. It’s better to ooze than conclude it’s dark here to no effect and watch corpses hauled out each morning; the fruit of deliveries and schooling, the aroma of my hacking trail, told by branches bleeding my path, not straight, and not consolation art.

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By Larry Bridges

IG: @larrybridges, Youtube:@larry90272

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