Tuesday, February 2

groundhog, groundhog!

rise and shine, campers,
it's february deuce.
that's groundhog day.
...and it's cold out there today.
(it's cold out there every day).
it's also the anniversary of my big reverse migration.
seven years!
breaking north like a compass,
seven years of woodsly goodness under my belt.
in a row.
seven lucky years of warrior poetry and barbarian berserking.
that's some sh!t.
and today is definitely the day;
already,
i've insulated pipes down in the creepshow crawlspace,
how was that litle expedition?
well,
who doesn't like a wet, tight, dirty slot?
heyyyy-O!
word!
i emptied out a storage unit,
uhaul trucked a whole other 'nother
apartment's worth of sh!t to the empty storage unit,
unloaded that big action,
and got some scraping, buffing, polishing,
and sonic booming done at the mental dental hygenist's office.
pearly ones, my ninjas.
positive dental outlooks are in my future.
that's a hefty handful of participation, ya'll.
and that was all before 2 o'clock.
there will be a celebration of sorts,
commemorating my serious sojourn,
my translocational trek,
my worthy war torn windswept wandering,
my most munificent mindful meandering,
and my ultimate hunkering down here in the woods.
seven years of hard styles,
long nights,
cold winters,
blazing berserker bonfires,
and real-deal Folk Life & Liberty.
that's what makes it all mean something.
leaving all that old bustedness behind,
and making the new hottness consistently hotter-
.....and,
it's there's still plenty of B.H.M. left, too.
we're paying homage to the deepest of the south;
blacktacular barbarian buffet?
yep.
collards,
black-eyed peas,
biscuits,
chicken-fried seitan,
and two kinds of hot sauce.
one for my anniversary,
and another 'nother for my ninjas.
i'm grateful for this real life.
and for the time i have been given;
never quiet, never soft.....

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