Riga Black - Chuck Johnson
Chuck Johnson
Balsams (2017)
Knee deep in swamp water, sucking at your toes. The gentle pricklings of mud-coloured mesozoa brushing at your skin.
Time passes. A slow burning of hours under rain clouds and moonlight when silent things unfurl and rush for the sky. Today you found moss tangled in the roots of your hair. Tomorrow, a web cast in the crook between jaw and shoulder. You can't see it, of course. Just a gossamer tickle when you turn your head to the east.