My name is Shang – or Winter.
So this is peace.
You think, and magically . . . a strawberry appears!
Yes, but why?
The brown thrasher, fantastic rat floating through the spruces, is astonishing.
Like young girls gorgonized into the innocence of being mountain-forms.
They are wearing silk from Shantung as they change.
My pachinko strategy is to sit for hours at a time pretending I’m a steel ball.
A steel ball floating gently through the air!
When I get time to play, it’s gonna be just you, me, and the Department of Beer.
Amend that: all of the above, all of the above and more beer, and all of the above and the State of Alaska.
Damn right I don’t rightly know what I’m capable of alone and left to my “devices.”
But I’m about to get alone with nature and a monstricide (beer) and find out.
Now I have friends whose new job seems to be acting faggoty on bikes or being wings on the helmet of kings.
They tell me my opinion of myself could stand some revision (read as: beer.)
Well, I’ll elect not to pet your alligator even if it is “benign.”
Out here where I am you’ve got aniconic faces in the frowning mountains.
You’ve got yr’ constant “you-and-whose-army’s-gonna-make-me” mentality.
At night the sky is a myriad tree with ice pods all aflower.