How does a hummingbird handle the rain?

and what about bumblebees…

are there ‘brellies

and wellies

to help out these fellies

or without do these pilots complain?

How do pond dwellers deal with a drought?

the tadpoles, the fish, and the skitters…

is there office

to process

the loss of the faucet

and if not what goes on with these critters?

How does a wolf pack recover from fire?

a bear, or a deer, or a moose…

are there builders

with guilders

to refill

the wilderness

replenishing pine tree & spruce?

However it is, these beasties then live,

I’ll wager that this much holds true…

they don’t blame

the rain

or the flame

for their pain

they change tack, since reaction was due.

strictly a department store

shopper,

I went to a garage sale

. . .

pocketful of change

and little to lose

and

charmed by the novelty

of the affair

I happen on by chance,

–and yet.

There were so many things I wanted

–from a distance–

that seemed a steal

of a deal,

and ergo: unreal

but

closer inspection

showed my emptor

its caveat

–the wear

and threadbare

of castoff-clustered

card tables

(also for sale)

the throw (away) holes

that weren’t knit,

the jeans faded white

that were so distressed,

the books without binding

that weren’t how they seam’ed,

the desk missing

drawers,

and rack

with cant

–the piles and piles of must-dusts

and junk waiting to happen

–and ragged it was,

but dogged was I,

and pig-headed perseverance led me

to treasure

where only discard existed

and while I stayed

a while

–no Starbucks calling name–

I discovered a jacket that

blazed,

a Stetson

still tagged,

and shoes so

to die for–

I hardly cared

they had walked

a different mile.

4^th Down

This fact doesn’t hamper

–the party at all!

Which features

* a creature *

we call Butterball.

A staph-ridden turkey

its carcass: a misery–

–of factory-farmed meat

befouled and be’gristly,

(despite hours spinning in oven rotisserie)

The incumbent host

is stressed, but pretending,

she’s not in the least

by way of attending,

to every last detail

right down to

the platter,

on which bird

–is served–

as if such things matter.

As history shows

that will·ful relations,

will full·y decide–

to guzzle libations,

ostensibly hefted

to those they hold dear,

giving their thanks

with two-barreled beer,

though bro’ likes nouveaux,

at this time of year.

If you can’t

beat ‘em––join ‘em!

And grab you a Bloody’

through Macy’s parade

you’ll be buddy-buddy,

a state that degrades

when footballs are kicked,

since pigskins

can stand in,

for symbolic dicks.

Missed the start of this verse sequence? No woRRies!! Click the links below to read from the begiNNing! Happy Holly-DaZe!!

First Week

Second Week

Week 3

I launches me haunches

& front paws, because–

my nose chose for sniffin

w tongue hung from jaws

my hurry all furry

my joy buoyed by chase

of winged thing, or stick flick

or jog-dogging race–

from furious curious

all fun run, I play

w beasts meets

by butts greets

at each beach all day…

Hal & Lula were

reli’just

disciple’end…

they

refrained

Allah time.

In the Beginning

there was the Word,

and the Word was

. . .

–well, piecemeal.

Written on the inside

of a discarded burrito wrapper

in the middle of the night

–sans light, since even the Big Guy kept the wee hours shady–

a goodly portion of this scrawl was hard to decipher come daybreak

(the 2^nd day)

–the scribble in direct burro dribble downright illegible

(too bad, because it was Good)

consigning 2 of the Original dozen commandments to the bin straightaway,

while the remaining 10 were ballpark at best.

Sure, the “do not kill” admonition

ultimately ensured mankind’s survival in a manner the intended

“do not kill time” directive probably wouldn’t have,

(over time, anyway)

and granted,

the dictate condemning theft

kept the masses in check

(and check-out lines)

to a greater degree than the proposed

“do not veal” might have,

(tough on the calves in both instances, though)

but the instruction

to forego adulthood was completely misinterpreted.

Resulting in millennia worth of monogamous automatons,

and Grown-Olds quite impervious to

the daily wonders all around them.

(sliced bread, and people short on guts come to mind)

So you can see why a New Testament was in order, which by then, Thank God

Jobs and Gates were around to micro (soft) manage.

(that Apple was Originally a persimmon!)

True, the advent of auto-correct misconstrued the Golden Rule, and

“Do until others do unto you”

was salvaged only when the G-Man ran a half-assed spell-check,

and yes, the hyper-link to heaven was rife with malware

a certain disgruntled Wingman had coded,

(whereas wifi became the focus one was cautioned not to covet)

but altogether, the kinder, gentler version

of the Almighty’s creed was a runaway success, and lo–

God 2.0 was branded.

In the beginning

was

is the Word

and the Word

–the beginning.

the Upon

. . .

–neither Man-u-fractured “time”,

nor unnecessary

“once”–

The

(beginning)

dark & stormy night

of

–His·story–

. . .

is God’s story.

. . .

the Big Guy, you know,

your upstairs border

–the fella that barters in place of bucks

. . .

(you might have seen His Ted Talk)

. . .

but however it goes,

He’s a righter.

(a role, sure, but it explains the rent situation)

Righting

(and re-Righting)

His U∙ni∙Verse

Word by Word

–a tome of quatrains, couplets and haikus wherein we are all graphemes–

(characters linked into words)

(mostly geographic)

excepting the compound verbs families compose, and

the repeating technique generations braid by epic chapter

. . .

that’s epoch chapter, but am I repeating myself?

Events cribbed on The Wrist

Happiness bolded and

underlined

Natural Disasters crumpled pages with which He’s disgusted,

t

 r

  a

   g

    e

   d

  i

 e

s

Accidents

just Cross-Outs,

&

Death the Red Pen that edits.

–courtesy Lou Cipher Ink–

a P.O.D. outfit whose contracts bear a certain amount of scrutinizing,

fraught

~as they are~

in coded legalese. . .