horsesh!t.

that must be the secret.
i mean it.
those enviable tamworth gardens
are packed tight with manure,
straight from out of a horse's A*.
actually,
i think it rots,
(uhhh, i might mean, it riiiipens)
for a little minute first,
when you get a mandrake-root lookin'
mutha-ucka like this:

upright man metaphor,
with that beta-level carotene, my ninjas.
nature wins.
especially when knee deep in doo-doo.
***********
holy smokes.
i've got no news,
which is surely good news,
but sorely feels like old news.
which reads pretty oxymoronically.
it kinds seems like A*.
which only sounds like asterisk.
but it's more of a ratio of A* to risk.
and lately,
there's little risk of much more than
a fresh-baked batch of A*.
hard rain trumps hot fire,
school starting again trumps more vacation,
and watching jaws with the kids trumps going swimming.
i can tell you neighbors that even the impending weekend
seems like a waste of time and energy
for any kind of really real productivity.
there's busy business,
and a lot of moving around,
but just about no move-makin'.
that's the kind of crap that could grow some
really righteous-rooted carrots, kids.
fact.
*
it's all really happening...
transitions,
just like war and change,
in 360 surround high-def.
the wind is like a wolf-whistle,
holla-hollering at what looks pretty dope up front,
but seems like a booming bass-boosted
booty blast in the back.
that's low-end theory, my ninjas.
transitions;
never quiet, never soft.....