Kudzu

marcus g mueller

“The night the Kudzu has your pasture, you sleep like the dead.”   ~ James Dickey

“Southerners must close their windows at night to keep the kudzu out…” Quote from The Amazing Story of Kudzu

the vines curl and creep and twist across the road
in the light from the pellucid moon
scent of honeysuckle trailing in the tendrils wake
leaving a false trail
a lure
come closer, smell the sweetness
let us wrap around you
grow with you, grow stronger
grow….
leaves unfurl and spread
heart shaped shields as they root and and weave
until the field stands silent
buried, strangling in greenness
and nothing live moves through the alien underbrush
in the dappling sunrise
the vines lie replete, passive as a predator in the scrub.
for the moment.

*artwork by marcus g. mueller*

 

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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