sculpture, sausages, shopping.

it's not raining.
it's not cloudy.
it's not too disgustingly humid.
that can only mean one thing:
it's time to finish up the big head.
that's a real thing.
we've got paint to spray,
eyes to light up,
and danglers to hang about his cranium.
ornament is as important as firmament
in this landscape of woodsly hottness.
once we're clear to build a top-secret nature-ghost hut,
he'll live in there.
doing important stationary stuff,
like watching over all the happenings that're all really happening.
a memory spirit,
all dome and duct tape.
nice.

***********
guess who popped up yesterday?
(no pun intended)
ohhhh yeah:
T.W.G.
...'The Wiener Guy'.
c'mon.
we zapped up some thigh meat.
i'm sayin', duders.
even in the summer season,
i've still got some time to hook-up a walk-in regular client.
plus,
his tatty-o's always have boobs in 'em.
and that's pretty cool.
i'm always grateful for the repeat business, too.
we talked about 'the pleats'-
that's a warrior poet allusion to buttholes,
not your sunday khakis.
y'know, like a coffee filter, post-brewing-
brownish and wrinkled and replete with, well, pleats.
you like it.
no joke,
glen knows what time it is.
usually it's the raging veiny high-noon sundial of dong o'clock.
after all, he IS the wiener guy.
awwwwwww, man.

***********
it's also the kind of day battle-bards spend composing birthday treats.
yep.
jess' big berfday blowout is happening all over again.
i've got until saturday to produce a present pile of epic proportions-
that means an all-out over-the-top explosion of
gratitude and generosity
two of my most favoritest things.
therefore,
in the interest of taking it to eleven,
loud, hard, fresh, an' that,
there needs to be molto molto treats.
useful, thoughtful, and completely excellent.
the biannual brouhaha of hottness.
i am always mindful of those i span time with,
and on some special sparkle-times,
i get to show it.
this is one of those times,
and today is one of those days;
never quiet, never soft.....