stumps...

breath stankin'?
i got that.
duders,
it's a fumigation activation sensation
all up in this fortified castle of
woodsly goodsly Folk Life & Liberty.
check the teleport:

ugh.
so many rolled up leaves,
waiting patiently for hot fire and the cyclindrical
cyclone of huffing and puffing to power
the glowing head of ash and heat and light.
too much is the right amount.
for the record,
the photo doesn't do justice to the cache's
stashed-up capacity of south american expertism.
they're double-stacked, my ninjas.
that's correct.
twice as many hecho-a-mano manifestos
of combustion and exhaustion.
word up.
smoke rings, neighbors.
ephemeral circles,
ghost circles, even;
temporal twists of spirit and memory.
it's a thing.
and, of course,
as always,
there's even more of it:

yuuuuuuuuuuup.
i never met a bad decision i didn't think could be
improved by double or tripling it's quantity.
you know i doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
i'm on that three bears,
small, medium, and large jauns.
hard styles and smoke stacks.
it's all really happening.
***********
may i?
no you may not.
the month is done.
another page turned,
another rabbit waiting to be pulled,
not from a hat,
but from my lips.
two coneys are due to get spat out of my mouth
first flippin' thing,
at first flippin' light tomorrow morning.
until then,
today's still the day.
the last one.
a triple-digit disappointment;
never quiet, never soft.....100