filling up.

can you feel it?
i can.
the tidal pull,
the magnetic resonance,
the electric current....
the moon is swelling up,
and it's got us worthy warriors under it's sway.
the firm grip of space satellite sauce, son!
refracted light,
and reflected circles,
of spirits and memories an' that.
i'm tellin' you, neighbors-
the cloudcover can't confound nor bebother our business,
because the lunar rays are penetrating all tangible barriers
with invisible wolfen trans- and emissions,
throughout the nights, AND the days.
non-stop transformative berserker fury, my ninjas-
i can feel both nature and infinity seeping up from the ground,
and oozing down from the sky.
the air gets thicker,
the earth gets heavier,
and the metals in both can't compare to the concentration
that gets conjured up in water,
bodies both large and small, y'all.
i'm not exaggerating, either.
it's the iron, mutha-uckas,
like blood, steel, and boxes of pasta.
we got all those jauns, too.
the constituent content is malcontent to lie dormant.
that's a thing.
i feel it pulsing.
like crescendos of kettle drums killing it at the coda, kids.
headaches and heartbeats and earthquakes and mac-a-F*n'-roni.
the only thing not flippin' welcome?
silver linings, yo.
anathema to the wolfen lycanthropic misanthropy.
that's word.
keep your optimism under wraps.
i'm not letting upbeat positivity put my powerful
hyena-like underbite in peril.
and no coors light either.
just sayin',
any and all silver bullets are to be put on hold until the waning.
i will, however, make especial exemptions for silver tongues.
an assaulting battery of flattery?
yep.
vanity, son.
and we'll dance by the light of the moon.
***********
so,
it's the ides of mutha-lickin' may.
the decree?
bare hairy-bear hobbity feet.
i'm repping flippity-floppies or summer feet from here on out,
and my nails are painted pretty for the occasion to boot.
padded paws, and huge, happy, flappy, shoe-fillers,
like you already know:
sasquatch, yeti, abominable snowman, bigfoot.
deciduous forest apes, friends, are my homeboys.
fact.
half wolf, half biped missing-link hominid?
heck yes.
that's my sh!t.
and i'll be slipping and sliding on soaked sandals to celebrate.
*
sunday,
and midmonth,
and fullerizing moonbeam magic,
and all the rainy woodsly goodness
you could ever hope to gather in one place.
you 'bout it?
you should be;
never quiet, never soft.....