Fuck, Bud!
Dontcha kno?
Second Most Prolific Poet,
Hails From PNW.
Ex-Hick Logger,
Eh?
Pissing Rain As You Read –
These Very Frozen Thoughts.
I lie in my bed.
Now you’re sondering too deeply.
Back up a smidge.
Are ya high, bud?
Don’t wear a rain jacket,
Sometimes.
Embrace feeling raindrops,
On skin.
Better than snows of ash.
Sleep to the sounds of rain,
Both within & without.
True & Artificial.
Sound Conjured Via Electricity.
Railgun Specials,
Every Tuesday.
Point our fingers.
Electron Arcs;
To Ignite The Rails.
Electromagnetic Slug Throwers –
Couple rails,
Plus a few steps.
Oh ya?
Arc welding steel fucking teeth,
On buckets.
Hated that sorta shit.
truths of those shitty childhood horrors
some of them burned into retinas,
like bright white & blue lights,
where i sat upon log piles watching
Rain.
Petrichor.
Plants shed oils,
Familiar smell in coniferous valleys.
Rot.
Death.
