blogs

pushing through the overhead vines, machete swinging through the coiled mass at the base of the massive oak, pushing aside the severed coils that leak white foam he pushes his hands through the wet mass of fleshy leaves, searching deeper his arms absorbed into the base of the trunk to the elbow, misting grit pluming outward and speckling the taught skin smeared with a wiry tuft of hair, the skin shrunk back so tight it has become translucent and it is unclear whether its the strange patches of ivory are the actual bone glinting through the flesh, nearly in up to the shoulders now his papery chest rising and wilting to the point of concave, and there it is as he pulls back with all his strength letting forth a fresh splash of clod and bits of root and wood, the quivering bundle of stained maple leaves clinging to the tiny body within