Monday, August 12


we burnt every last scrap.
no really.
until all we had left were embers, and ash,
and the lingering warmth that the stone circles emanated afterwards;
slowly and surely releasing what was absorbed
from the smoke rings and hot coals...
on the ones, friends-
i love fire.
sh!t, y'all,
we ALL do.
barbarian warrior poets;
brutal battle-beast bards;
lightning-striking vikings;
savage stormswept raging gypsy troubadours;
what do all those sorts of applicable subjective adjective labels
share when it's all boiled down to the barebones essence of excellence?
oh, c'mon,
it's obviously hot fire!
don't be dumb.
catalytic combustion might be a mandatory ingredient.
it's the essential activator for one's affinity and aptitude towards
the full experience of Folk Life & Liberty.
i'm almost positive about that.
burning it all down,
to a crisp, to a cinder, to the timbers, to the pain.....
if you can't hang out with catastrophic conflagrations,
then i guess you just can't hang out.
that's the way we build 'em.
because we like that skeletal look when the insides burn away.
it's a natural chimney,
and that's naturally expert.
then you get to fill the hole with even more stuff to set on fire.
so good.
i even had a recyclable paper bag filled with a few months' worth of
loosely bundled and folded reams of recyclable paper goods.
i saved it, special-like,
and instead of repurposing it, or reusing it, or letting it be reclaimed?
we sacrificed it all to the seething pit of romantic pyromancy!
(that's that lovely fire magic, friends.)
we doo-doo that burly burn bag business, b!tches.
every last sheaf, leaf, and sheet.
me and my family,
sitting and soaking up that smoky hardwood light and heat,
letting the summertime super-awesomeness wash over us like waves,
while we float on cool grass under clear starry skies.
there are moments that really matter,
and there is everything else.
our buddy shayne stayed for dinner.
that was dope.
he hitchhiked his way away to somewhere,
and we stayed home, where our hearts are,
and blazed away the red oak and rock maple
like a furious furnace of good-life livin' luxury.
this is our life together,
and it's all really happening even now.
lucky us;
never quiet, never soft.....

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