i mean,
last night we got expert with a super-hot tepee-type fuego a-go-go,
and now, out of nowhere, an overnight blight of sleet and sh!t
has showered down on our domes and covered everything in sloppy sauce,
and weak winterly crystals of slippery crunchiness an' that.
awwwwwwww.
and here it was so warm and lovely yesterday.
that's just how it goes, neighbors.
that good time you're having?
don't get comfortable-
...it's only a loan.
true story.
before the buttery doo-doo of a weak and wincy mincey monday
showed up to smother our happy heads with wintry mixed misgivings,
we had one heckuva dope evening.
and that included the previously mentioned hot fire.
teleport:
it's kind of the best thing ever.
like, since caveman times, even.
and that's no jokes, jerks.
we keep it pretty Folk Life & Liberated when we can,
blazing up a barbarian ghost circle at the Fortress,
and summoning up the spirits and memories of woodsly goodness
all over the flippin' places and spaces we occupy at any given instant.
it's all there is, and all we need.
being dope isn't as hard as you'd think, i guess-
also,
the cucch looked like the devil:
where's faust?
just sayin',
because my mini-mephistopheles sure seems pleased with their deal!
**********
hot fire on cold evenings is what's up.
ugly old men of the mountains is also what's up.
i put the self(ie) in self-effacing.
male medusa teleport?
yeah:
even late-evening low light reveals too much.
pitch-black is my perfect mood lighting, kids.
dark times in the wee hours,
and darker moods on dreary morning-afterwards.
it's not easy,
but it's the truth.
and now this is happening:
and slogging trudging drudgery until tonight.
but then?
indeed, duders,
the weekend for warrior poets begins at six.
and that's when it all really really starts happening;
never quiet, never soft.....
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