Written for the Solstice gathering at The Yard on June 19th, 2026
Turning tail to run, the night
Is banished by this pagan light.
Eternal sun lords overhead
To keep the children from their beds
And banish from our minds the dread
Of snow and winter, dark and dead.
So be alive, and celebrate,
And feast with friends, and stay up late.
The absurd mental geography of a man with way too much time on his hands.
Hold my face
while I replace
the holes behind
my seeping mind.
Eli Whitney, cotton gin.
Mortal combat, mortal sin.
Old MacDonald, open late,
it's a sin to m*********.
Steel and wood, an edifice.
Hyland mountain, witness this
fearsome verticality
soaring outward, endlessly.
Hobo sittin' on the railroad tracks,
Hobo eatin' from a flour sack.
Come here Mr. Hobo and hear what I say:
You're gonna be marryin' my daughter today.
(Quickly realized that I had a pretty painful shoulder strain, it got a little better though)
Shot in shoulder, holy shit
One hour later, over it.
Zombie hikers don't say "hi",
Getting out, but dead inside.
What does it do? Where does it go?
What kind of magic does it grow?
A trailside lamp? A luminaire?
A Hyland Hills electric chair?
Californians walk astride
The steadily encroaching tide
While vagabonds all turn their cheeks
To take it on the other side
Sand will make a decent bed
For those with heart and heavy head
The sea has something yet to teach
These sun-crazed dwellers of the beach
Round and round, and rise and fall
Up hills and mountains short and tall.
Endless outdoor carousel,
Insane, absurdist circus hell.
I'm out on a stroll, let's see how far I can go!
Oh dear Lord, there's a disk in the air,
I hope it doesn't hit me, I should've been more aware.
Now the frolfers are mad and I'm runnin' away,
I want to run over there but I'm a little afraid.
Oh I'm out on a stroll!
Laufen schnell gefällt mir so.
Es macht mich fit, es macht mich froh.
Laufen macht mein Herz schnell schlagen,
Und mich warum ich laufe fragen.
(English translation)
I love running fast like this.
It keeps me fit, it makes me happy.
Running makes my heart beat fast,
And makes me ask myself why I run.
Elected congresswoman was
All for the washing of the spuds.
Her conscience was depicted hence:
An outstretched arm, protuberance.
(Pro-tuber-rinse, get it?)
When farm is the course,
Spectator: Horse.
A chorus of geese in the grass by the path and they're roaring.
While me and my Toms put on miles single file like it's boring.
[Call me Dr. Doolittle]
Rub a dub dub, Turkey running club.