In the woods, where the wolves live
they bit and pierced me like a sieve.
They tore the limbs off of my trunk
and scattered them all out like junk.
Those wolves.
Those cruel wolves.

Some bones were broken, some were scattered.
Wine-dark blood was spilled and spattered.
Entrails trailed the well-worn paths as
the wolves wallowed in a gory bath.
Those wolves.
Those evil wolves.

The river lies near a town that
is red mud stained and gray and brown.
The Baptists and the snake handlers
all speak in tongues and rave and curse
those wolves.
Those evil wolves.
Those cruel wolves.
Those goddamn wolves.


from THE BANKS OF THE OLD BLACK RIVER, released October 31, 2014


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James Wesley Nichols Greenville, South Carolina

All songs, voices, guitars, keyboards, drums, percussion, sequencing, tape and digital recording, artwork, design, packaging, and so on, by James Wesley Nichols, unless otherwise indicated.

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