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Fictionwocky #10, the haibun
The landscape shifted as we walked, yellow caked earth cracking as it rose and fell, a symptom of the pressure deep below. Roiling lakes of melted rock bubbled miles beneath us and we felt the consequence of it as we walked this mutating landscape. Without warning, the path meant to go straight back to the lodge bucked up in front of us and fell off to the right, twisting now into the woods. But we felt no alarm at this, a bird not in our guide book sang from the shaded tree line. Other tourists cheered at the antics of the land. We recorded the feat from two angles, for our socials. In the distance above, the geologic monitor drones buzzed and snapped pictures. Mother Earth seemed to purr up through our feet.
The Earth, at her core,
Boils at all the steps we take
On her perfect flesh
~
oh hello Mac Sitko
