There's nothing I love more than eating. Mmm, yes. Fat Boy loves a good meal. I enjoy the crunch, the squish, even the quietest sizzles as I grind every little particle between my molars. I cherish ... [+]
The elk hides stories of bluepoint and veery.
It's Kokum's prize—calloused hands
weave cord; flesh begins to slide
side to side
knots are tied with tobacco on the mind.
The elk hides stories of blue bunch and badgers.
It's Kokum's crime—bloody hands
tighten guts; flesh begins to cry
side to side
knots are tied with cedar on the mind.
The elk hides stories of gumweed and rattlesnakes
It's Kokum's pride—gentle hands
sew and glide; flesh remains wise
side to side
knots are tied with sweetgrass on the mind.
It's Kokum's prize—calloused hands
weave cord; flesh begins to slide
side to side
knots are tied with tobacco on the mind.
The elk hides stories of blue bunch and badgers.
It's Kokum's crime—bloody hands
tighten guts; flesh begins to cry
side to side
knots are tied with cedar on the mind.
The elk hides stories of gumweed and rattlesnakes
It's Kokum's pride—gentle hands
sew and glide; flesh remains wise
side to side
knots are tied with sweetgrass on the mind.