material fast, time slow.

duders,
i thought the idea was to save a little movie check action?
c'mon.
a material fast, right?
right.
here we are, three weeks and then some,
deep into january,
and i'm maybe somehow even more broken and busted
and broke,
than i was before i started behaving all adult-like,
in a fastidiously responsible, miserly manner.
i'm just sayin', neighbors-
saving money is one thing,
and not spending money is another,
but not having money to spend,
whilst not saving one sad thin red cent
is a whole other 'nother other thing entirely.
so how does warrior poetry get composed without loot?
i mean,
how can those true stories get activated on the cheap?
y'heard?
let me just let all y'all in on what kind of a tuesday it was-
thank goodness for the fully stocked humidor in my mudroom.
for real, y'all.
me and olive the dog resorted to our usual pastime
until it was well past time to head home and rinse away
the fumes from our fresh foray out amongst the mountains.
uh-huh.
we traversed the whole northern highway-style loop
of the white mountains national forest jauns today.
smoking stumps,
staying warm (46 degrees Farenheit, son!)
and slingshotting ourselves through the past,
back to the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress
right here where we belong,
safely sulking in the future.
...and then wasting the afternoon shoveling away
the thick festy busted brown ice that's made our driveway
an impossibly impassably perilous path.
from franconia to asphalt in one round-trip loop.
awwww.
if not for hard styles, i'd have none at all, yeah?
word.
***********
ninjas,
the expert hermit nutrients are running out.
yup.
like, dangerously low, maybe even.
i'm still here, of course;
and still staying the course, of course;
which, of course, really just means staying still.
oh stop it.
you know i've never been one to shirk shifts sleeping in
a hard-style bed of my own devising.
but for real,
i've got deep-woods roots burrowing down
to the core of the flippin' earth,
from the tippity top of a remote mountain, even,
and the rest of my peoples
are reppin' that tumbleweed activation....
rollin' and blowin' and ramblin',
to far flung corners,
and far off places,
with ambitions,
and destinations,
and all that noise-
time zones, area codes, hemispheres,
whole wide worlds apart.
kids,
what good is being a know-it-all, guru-type,
grizzled, wizened wizard of woodsly goodness
if nobody makes the trip to the acme?
...........
partially thawed,
permanently combusting;
never quiet, never soft.....