rabbit....rabbit!!!

a rabbi, a rabbit, and an abbot walk into a bar...
okay,
that's not real,
but y'know what IS?
the first of the month.
june, duders.
it's here already.
at midnight i shouted it out loud-
rabbit. rabbit.
crisp staccato enunciation, neighbors.
and then again when i woke up in the wee predawn hours.
rabbit, rabbit,
quietly mumbled out of my sleepyheaded face.
and finally,
when i woke up for good, this morning,
i made it a point to hit up the sixth monthly, sequential, vociferous
RABBIT RABBIT!!!!!
exclamatatory, my ninjas.
i doo-doo that calends crap, all super-superstitious like.
so guess who has some good ol' luck on his side now?
yeah.
it's me.
starting out a whole new other 'nother month
with the routine of reciting the anti-jinx juice,
and thus keeping the presummer sucksauce the F* away.
what-what? say what, say what?
anything can happen.
as long as it is expert.
i mean,
it's already expert(e) already-
it's flippin' june, duders.
word up.
***********
what constitutes a rad forecast?
a warning to beware the scattered violent storms.
c'mon.
we got they!
from clear bright morning to deep and ominous darkness,
and back again,
with earsplitting sky-cracking soul-claps of thunder,
silver-striking slivers of electricity,
and the big raindrops.
violence, y'all.
violencia, even.
raging gypsy-roving (c)loudbursts.
it's all really happening.
over and over...and over, until it's all over.
that's that really unpredictable raw sh!t.
plus,
there's always wind with this kind of weather.
wind.
the catalyst, and harbinger, and smoke-trailing wafter-
change, war, and answers, all in one.
swirling whorls of storm spinning overhead,
and rustling leaves underneath.
woodsly goodness pervades and perseveres, b!tches.
storms or no,
the rabbity blabbermouths of warrior poetry get busy.
recognize the real.
*
on a different note-
mosquito suckle suckhole parasite poop-bugs hate cigar smoke
almost as much as my wifey.
a cheroot is great for keeping everybody away at once.
a cheroot, ninjas, is a square-cut cowboy-type stogie.
for real.
sorry skeeters,
no yellow fever for me,
and with the added benefit of reppin' a pure spaghetti western style.
good, bad, and ugly, all at once.
that serious stink stick stump action works wonders.
...except on black flies.
black flies keep it too 'hood.
they buzz in close and take deep lungfuls.
they don't bite afterwards,
they just hang out, huffing the fumes,
and doing lazy loop-de-loops through the smoke rings.
i don't like scrubs gettin' shorts on my jauns, son.
maybe i should spray some deep woods DEET
all over my backwoods blunts?
gross.
and probably pretty sickness-inducing.
moreso, even, than just fumigating the forest with
billowing bellows of 'bacco.
just sayin'.
it's the last day of my days off,
but tomorrow is only a short day of work.
yeah.
portland, maine is on the menu, mutha-uckas.
and so are the avett brothers.
june is off to a rollicking start.
but then again,when is it all ever not happening;
never quiet, never soft.....