FICTION: Scraps by Ron Koppelberger

The tawny walled confession, passion, passion in sensuous sympathies of substance and reason exampled the warmth, in extremes of sweet blessed asylum. The coverings were primal, fury and tempered by release from the bond of woven stitch. A scrap for the sum, a scrap for the honest roll of waves and carefree abandon unto the instinct of primitive attire. Raves and fair battlegrounds in sheepskin and the blossoms of asylum full in wash, full proof of the decor and the sentiment defining courage.

The hallucinations were an opiate silk and the honey oozed from every pore of his body, in thrall of wheat and amber sunglow the tides sang sheepskin blessings of shelter. He was in clandestine array with the scraps of sheepskin , sheepskin that adorned his walls in rejoicing breaths of life and discourse unto the will of a man, a touch of heaven. In discourse of blossoms , marigolds, roses and dandelions in fearless sworn allegiance to the rift, the fury and the sharp toothed allure of chronic bounding adaptation…..wolves and men by the advance of wheels and machineries of evolution like a great rainbow weld gone to the wont of bonded instinct. Tales of brothers in savage pleasures of rhy whiskey and sheep stuffing, he loved in this and prayed and his prey approved of his passion. Imbibed by the wild dream of wolf unto the need of mere men, free affections and journeys of awe, by this he extended his consciousness to the twilight tide advance as he ran without fear toward the hand of god.