Untitled Words and Photo by Max Lees
The hunting party sets out Into the mudsucking swamp stumbling through thick fog and shooting at answers to a question they’re still looking for Carrying black-and-white binoculars, chanting to a two beat stomp chasing ghosts and waving excitedly at some object in the distance conjured by their burning gaze, blink and it slips back out of existence They’re looking for a bridge, loosely strung across the chasm between the blizzard and the bonfire, careful crossing open-eyed or you’ll drop your sanity down there, Down where your own dead body and the bodies of your shadow’s friends are twisted into incoherent shapes, inside out and multiplied in bizarre attempts at circular symmetry Look up or look down, the high-wire bridge gives a sickening lurch and in a fit of laughter you find yourself tossed back into the flames, surrounded by piles of junk, gold frames cheap paint costumes snagged on broken strings magazines with
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