always throw caution to the wind

for a life well lived, for I did not, and lived a life well-lied

always throw caution to the wind

our life in this realm is short-lived, no bigger than
the size and brevity of our divine sparks existence

always throw caution to the wind

long winters and short summers recalled on paper,
have you not realized that mere gods worship immortal men,
our gloried markers, our stories, our ephemeral skin - forever

always throw caution to the wind

jump in after it, the winds course is a buffeting, head knock heading,
breeze, gust, gale and storm, a recovery chance of chances, a tourney
where the thrill of the unpredictable toss is not a simple head or tails,
but a slot machine of innumerable outcomes randomly optimized

always throw caution to the wind

the life irregular is the normative, the outcomes always positive,
this is the only thought that should ever provoke -
be wild but not crazy, think clearly and dare define safety
on your own terms, your own odds calculating, sew your own net,,
pick your wind and as a parent, always dress appropriately

for I am still crazy after all these years

drrry spells

~for the r in all of us~

a normanative condition, a kitchen condiment, an un-relished
I’m-in-a-pickle relish, when there in no hot **** dogged doggedly poem perspiration in the fridge or anywhere to be found; nothing but a top sliced bun, ah, plain buns, old stale dog ones is all ya got left for dinner, during one of them there drrry spells that
no blonde tanned unweathered weatherperson ever
forecast correctly

Normanative? Oh yeah.

the tyranny of the white, white bread, the white, whittle ya down screen, couture-cold water from tap direct, neck bent, jugged to try and fail to wash down that lumpen ball of dog fur brain drain clog that’s backing up the paper words, in a stomach churning brine holding you back from reaching the top of the Mt. Everest,

rite Normanative?

Normanative.Oh yeah. Son of Norma and Normally.
It’s in the bibell, look it up!

she-he is my pooka, (nope, uh-uh, look it up) a six foot tall rabbit,
climbing up my brain stem, strategically strangling my words like
a flea killer collar round my neck, one that actually visually works,
my flea bit words fall to the floor, to live with the dust mites descendants of the ole south, drafts and rejection letters, all whose blessed memory may never die etc. etc.

that was the condition of my normanative condition when I dropped in (yup, look it up),

Norman sarcastically asking, how’s the weather up there,
any rain in that-northern-brain, down here it’s as dry as an southern old dog porch panting in Jewlie, breathiny out summer hottie poems, write out like it’s crazy going out of style, oh yeah, forgot
you don’t speak dawg that well.

so I don’t know nothing about your drry spells, just climb into
the hottest hot tub, staying all the summer months if necessary,
reading old poems about busted hearts, old dogs, unrealized loves that can’t be forgot, promises kept that one never made, other curses,
battlefields of yore, sweatin’ out the toxins till r
sends along a new one, rocking my toenails to my disbelieving eyes,
for I’m a mentally patient person,
whose never seen a drrry spell so long, that was not worth
wading thru, waiting for, till something busted out and
another thunderstorm of a literary good one, errr come along

like I said, I’m a mental patient man, still crazy after all these years...
(yup, that too, you could look it up if ya made this far)

fifteen years through adolescence
fifteen years to build a man
fifteen years to raise a family
another to know who (I) am

fifteen years to pad the coffers
fifteen years to tinker, and rest
fifteen years to reflect on the moments
before the Sunday best

Let’s **** through the issues
hash things out
zig-zag our way
to the carryout!

Powder some pozy
spark the butane
a platter of cookies
with sweet Mary Jane!

Once it grabs an idea
or learns a new fact
it stretches its seams
and never looks back!