The Amazon’s Mouth

My machete cleaves the jungle vines
I know the jaguar’s close behind
Me as I run with clumsy dread
With jodhpurs torn, the field guide’s dead
Doomed and lost deep in the bush
My gun discharged, my breath is rushed
The nightfall’s near, pith helmet gone
I know I’ll never see the dawn
Still I press on to the South
For succor
At the Amazon’s mouth

I wheel and stare in purple dusk
A charging boar with bloodied tusk
Falls to the jaguar’s gleaming fangs
Where the bright aguaje hangs
I fear I’ll feel those claws before
I can confess my sins once more
Stepping back my heel meets air
Into the Rio Paru there
I’m swept away, to the South
The mighty pull
Of the Amazon’s mouth.

The rapids roil, I fight for breath
Whirlpools swirl and promise death
Alligators snap and fight
Fierce piranha dart and bite
I sink with heavy khaki tattered
Nothing really seems to matter
Soon I’ll join my poor dear Rhonda
Constricted by an anaconda
Limp and lifeless, drifting out
I’m gone, released
In the Amazon’s mouth


About nitrovonborax

The Mighty Arthammer of von Borax strikes the Anvil of Universal Consciousness, forging Iconic Singularities of Metaphor. Nitro von Borax is widely recognized as the natural heir to the crumbling facade of an empire that Thomas Kinkade built with massmarket hack-retouched cottagey papscapes, which glow as though lit by pernicious chip-grease fires within and trigger pleasurable dissociative transport to the plebian viewer. Mr. von Borax, known to his discerning, sophisticated & politically progressive fans as "The Painter of Sprinkly Sparkles," pulls inspiration from Betty & Veronica BOTH, stolen travel brochures & comic books, Martin Denny & Italian Giallo Movies to visualize and manifest pure unfettered awesomeness for your astral excursions. His portfolio resonates at a frequency only bats can hear.

Posted on May 18, 2011, in Poems and Literary Peccadillos and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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