working...out.

the sun came out, friends.
uh-huh.
but not before the glum bummery mood
instigated some sprouting sh!t from the sopping soil.
out from under the mouldering detritus of the roadside
woodsly thickets and groves,
the new hottness was poppin', hard.
teleport:

perfect stoner toadstool?
yeah.
straight from the pages of your eight grade notebook!
you used to be lame, yo.
real talk.
and that's that's not it, either:

ill gills!!
a hansel and gretel footpath of fungi fruits was trying to lead me
deep into the forest,
probably to the gingerbread house of a big, fat, butt-nasty witch.
lucky for me,
i had places to be,
and turned myself around, back towards the paved passages
of northern mountain travel,
and well away from that hungry cannibal woman.
let's face it-
it would've taken way too long to fatten me up enough
to be worth stewing me all up in a cauldron.
crisis averted through willpower and prior planes.
expert.
there was one last fresh filthy one:

i don't know exactly why this photo sucks as many balls as it does.
i suppose it could be because the geists of the goodness
get grossed out and look away
in that nanosecond before the flash.
i mean,
that sh!t is 'sgusting.
awwwwwwwwww.
what even is it?
i've got a whole big book that would tell me,
and a google machine that could too....
but i'm gonna live in mystery for a minute,
and let one of you fill in the details.
uh-huh.
test your naturalist knowledge-
what is it?
coral from the morel family?
i dunno.
i DO know that mushrooms are my homeboys.
that's not anthropomorphism,
it's more like obtuse philosophy.
real talk.
***********
breaking shins, toes, knees, and ankles.
that's how i spanned the median zone of yesterday.
y'know,
playing futbol, b!tches.
running around being pretty terrible,
trying to defend a tract of territory from
rushing attackers and hard-style strikers.
it's never pretty.
warrior poetry i've got,
poetic kinesthetics, not quite so much.
i suppose i could use the exercise;
otherwise,
i might look slightly less like a skeleton scarecrow stick figure.
and we can't have that, neighbors...
-
with that knowledge of caloric catalyzation in our domes,
let me ask all y'all question:
what's up with homemade ethnic brown people food?
yep.
like beans AND rice and spicy red rojo activation?
with 'cheese'ish filled-up tortillas, pan fried all authentic
by my culinary compadre carlos?
yuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
on the ones, ninjas-
dinner at my house is what's up.
smoky chipotle-type ho' sauce,
sweet smoked paprika,
liquid smoke,
gunsmoke, maybe (not really)...
we activated the flavors and el sabor of the future, kids.
good duders getting particpatory around the pots and pans
of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress kitchen?
c'mon.
that's dope.
and,
it happened;
never quiet, never soft.....