shawn hebrank is my homeboy.

how many people would voluntarily
let a big, loud, hairy apeman
stay in their house,
all up on their sheets and showers and seats,
with a caustic, contagious, outrageous form of 'itis
that is both highly communicable,
and brutally mutagenic?
(um, excuse me duders. excuse me,
but if you hear it getting live
from the low,middle, and highlights,
that's just the things we left behind.)
so,
how many people want to be responsible for unleashing that?
none,you guessed?
wrong.
F-.
there are at least two that i know and love, neighbors.
shawn and meryl have been amazing.
...as usual.
hospitality, patience, understanding,
competent communication,
and a rubberneck spectator check on the wreck
that is this really real roll-call of real life documentation.
i'm tellin' you ninjas,
they can appreciate a hot mess of sh!t-hot firespit
like nobody's business.
the offer amnesty for social travesty, free of charge.
kids, listen up:
the louderhorn inn is perpetually welcoming,
and inviting, too.
a definite home away from home,
and one of the very, very few non-woodsly spots
i like to span time.
mr. hebrank orchestrated, organized,
and in many other ways facilitated an amazing opportunity
for a whole heap of worthy warriors to actively participate in.
and that's no joke.
on the ones, ninjas, he executive produced and promoted
the holy living sh!t out of this whole endeavor.
thanks, man. without your move-making and rump-shaking
and elite crew of hand-picked party people,
the new hottness, and the loudest, freshest, and hardest styles
would've gone straight down the poop-tubes.
yeah.
the people who came out,
the places we patronized,
the gluttonous globs of blops we feasted on,
the times we spanned,
it's been amazing,
and as usual,
i'm leaving still hungry for just a little bit more.
never enough time for enough dopeness, yeah?
because, really, there's never enough dopeness, is there?
uh-uh.
the full bellies, hard feelings, sleepy eyeballs, and salty tears
that i'm leaving behind make it all worth every single minute.
there is a swath of expertise being left in the wake of
this juicy juggernaut of just-be-dopeness.
that's right.
from lowly journeyman acquaintances,
my midwest peoples have been promoted
to fully licensed hot fire and lightning-type experts.

EXPERT.

that's a fact.

*

and now,
after all the sights, delights, burly berserker barbarian displays and arrays
of the art making marathon melee,
it's time to once again get on another 'other jet plane,
back to the sweet home
and lovely wifey i've been missing so hard.
it was fun while it lasted, y'all.
big fun, even.
but the mountains, and the trees, and the t-n-t action
of the Folk Life just calls to me like a sweet serenade from a siren.
the mermaid, not the ambulance, ninjas.
it's due time,
and it's really happening.

***********

minneapolis,
you may be a city,
and that may be pretty gaysplosive,
but we can still hang out.
there's a sure enough soft spot forming for you.
it may be a lot like rot on a bruised fruit, actually-
but the brown bloppity blarp bite is always so much sweeter.
something about authentic battle-damage releases the treats.
it's better than bitter, even if it gets a little gooey.
yeah.
that about sums it up.
thanks for a time.
i'm grateful for all that happened,
the swanky art show,
the epic munching,
the laughs,
the unending stomachache,
and the sleep-deprivation delivery of rapid-fire lava
from my mouth and butthole.
woooord.
long nights,
hard times,
and everything else that makes me feel tired;

never quiet, never soft.....