sun(less)day.

hey there.
it's another rainy day in the woodsly goodness.
you know what that means, yeah?
it means that all the bike week weirdies
are wearing garbage bags,
or bright yellow gladwrap crap.
they call it "rain gear".
i call it fruit-blastage.
either way,
it's just not that sexy a look,
even with a handlebar moustache.
but,
you know what IS a pretty sexy look?
the loud fresh hardness that is
NEVERQUIETNEVERSOFT.
that's what's up.
only non-stop rockin',
for your face,
sans plastic waterproofing.
i think it's the 104 luscious degrees of turbo-hottness
that keep the water from sticking for too long.
that's evaporation, baby.
misty mysteries, all secret and spirited.
we got them jauns.
***********
moth art.
moth art?
uh-huh.
moth art.
where's all the dirty brown moth art at?
my almost-done spare-time spare bathroom, kids-
it needs some moth art.
where is it?
do you have some?
can you get ahold of some?
can you make some?
i need it.
give it to me.
that's no joke, you worthy warrior poets.
if you've got what i need,
you'd better let me know.
moths, duders.
keeping it realer than really real,
whilst looking remarkably barklike,
in the dark,
evading bats,
top-secretly super ninja,
and dope.
give. give. i need. i need.
make it happen.
do it.
***********
yessiree,
it's mid-june.
y'know what THAT means?
it means:
it's time to start making more woodsly treats.
once it isn't so wet, an' that. (t.w.s.s.)
my very own goodness in the goodness, if you'll follow me.
so,
who's coming over to string up 30' high Folk Life flags?
who's swinging by to tape up some more big ol' spirit heads?
who?
who will help me bake this bread?
you know you really like it...
***********
idol hands.
like those indian-type jauns.
the brown ones, not the red ones.
and moreover usually blue or black in idolatry,
but y'know what i'm sayin': a lot of hands.
like eight of 'em.
two for each member of the band-
that's the name of the bluegrass duders we went and saw last night.
two full sets of toe-tappin', knee-slappin', pants-crappin' fun.
saturday night in the rural rainy ranges of the up-northerly good stuff.
it was pretty rad, too.
it definitely was better'n riding around in zip-lok clothes
on a meathog 'tard-rocket looking for barbecue and souvenir t-shirts.
remember,
if you need souvenir t-shirts, y'know for the real hottness-
you don't need a motorcycle, or even bad facial hair,
y'all just need a credit card: neverquietneversoft.
we got you, b;
never quiet, never soft.....