Chord

Come the marrow-hours when he couldn't sleep, the boy river-brinked and chorded. Mud-bedded himself here in the root-mesh; bided. Sieved our alluvial sounds— Perseverating fiddler-crabs pockworking the pluff-mud; (perforated) home-bank gurgle and seethe; breathing burrow-holes, under-warrens, (pitched) pent-forts, coverts; a rabbity heart-hammering amongst the canes; bleat of something; sleeping Mama grinding (something) with her jaw; Daddy rut-graving gravel driving off; the desolated train-trestle rust-buckling   —and falling; an echo-tolling cast-iron skillet like a gong; downrivering gone(gone)gone(gone); Sylvia supper-calling her fish-camp fish with a bell; putting her tea kettle! wren-calls on for the crying marsh-wren orphans; R.T. tale-telling down by Norton's Store "Where every Story cauls a Grief"; Daddy   —nine-eyed,knee-walking—   aisle-weeping at the Bi-Lo; Mama mash-sucking sour loquats in the shed; ire-salts quartzifying in the dark; the caustics; the fires; far Fever Creek revival-tents hymning and balming; bees thrive-gilding the glade; hand-strang bottle-oaks (and intricated yardwire-works) clocking and panging; Viaduct Forge & Foundry beating time; the bait-boys along the dock drum-dunting their buckets; vowel-howling over the water; the river; RIVER.