Simple Theories

  Skunks resemble tractors because they brim with fullness and cheer. They know how to fill the night. Night seems broad and intractable but skunks ramble with the zest of bitumen. Skunks know: night makes protocol taste good like all fevers do. Night's just the other part of town, no more lonely than the sun beat streets. Skunks can cope. As Darwin will tell you, skunks have weaponized anal glands. They make the best of what they have. In the light of day, tho, do we know the final score? Do we even know what teams are playing? Can today's skunks still remain relevant? Look how shadow governments fixate on flourishing, trust in the bankable. Those silver linings argue for more outcasting on the basis of born again financial reports and offshore benefaction. Just don't step on skunk and its real time report. Stay kind with every inkling as you wander in the dark. Like skunk, you have a light somehow.

  Raccoons have established themselves as the hearty tankard of ale and then what. Solving problems in excelsis, cuter than butter on toast. The human tiny hands posit granulated potential. Find something, eat something, maybe add some style. Cuddling beasties with a sound of human infant. Let their vision proceed. In the aloft of thought there appears the child crying. Do infants hunt in the night? Let Political Action Committees step forward protectively. But really, that balloon won’t fly. Raccoon finds quarry. Quarry feeds food inquiries. Climbing tree exceeds postulation, that same old thrum. A raccoon must be hit in the road by the virtue of cars--cars are all virtue--but only in the insistence of progress. No better malaise than to die in the road. Come the revolution, die in the road. Stifle the revolution, die in the road. Obvious base meaning: die in the road. Three raccoon, that time, looked too close for the not too feral cat. Which reveals the sordid limits of mastery.  Yo

  Eagle have the look, and marketing does the rest. In a world of Jazzercize(r), and—be honest—a bit more Jazzercize(r), eagles remain staunch symbols of mighty whatever and the glory thereof. Words need not count in meaning, people just make words mean as they see fit. Like the very Thunderbird of legend, Eagle has the mojo of a movie star albeit one with an appetite for rabbits and large mice. Eagle flies like an avalanche from the sky or a trampoline with wings, or maybe a bowling alley from heaven or thereabouts. The bald eagle performs the best example of warlike wonderful, so important to the gullible and grandiloquent. Eagles eat what they eat, mostly bending down from the sky of skies. We shall forego further discussion of diet because the world is too much with us. No matter. Symbolic Eagle makes the sauce. That's the poetry of writing like poetry, right there, for noblest purposes. The sticky parts of religion and politics flare up to the top of Eagle space. Eagle provide

  On a day much like the days of life, a bounding of weasel young crossed the road. Energetic black packets of energy and mayhem, they charged into the further woods. No parental unit appeared but the kids had the mission written large. Life as discomfiture for the potential morsel, which includes you as in  you . Hunger creates the amplitude of the dynamo, tho for you the terms may need excavation. Opulence looks natty on your cv, and the jangle of your sum proves highly hypnotic. But you are not a weasel, likely cannot reach that high. Taking is a given in your foundation. Weasels scour for just that extent of world living world. Longitude crosses latitude on this globular precinct. You just begin with the end, as there were no moment before. These rascals mean business, your business means rascals.

  You too can be a scamp or, better yet, a boutonnière! You are young like a rock. Your flower shares a voice. Ox Eye, Shasta, or (listen up!)  True  Daisy bring pronation and extension for and towards the utter eye of fields. All applied as grace note at the musical bar. As such, an asterism made among empyrean creatures in the space of just your kindness. Lark on! The flower fills the bold use of day with the interest of colour. And white petal itself serves no single colour but contains them all. All this found in the village mark of flowers. Language makes and makes again, like forests in our time. Flower lifts assonance to song and the ordinary acceptance of astonishment. See Emily Dickinson there in the select company of words. See the world from the towering sunbeam. Cultivate some garden beyond exchequers and the grisling count. Make sun while the hay shines. This packet flies!

  Duck explains duck. Duck divided by duck leaves you with duck. Do the math yourself. Ducks define the gravel on the street of water birds and creatures needing wet. Duck walks briskly to valueless bread torn imperatively into bite-sized chunks of human disintegration. Our globular palace compels a metrics of cheap shit and market pressure. Karl Marx said this just the other day, but he never met a duck. Problematics of why should ducks be met. Do ducks make replicas of food? Duck defines the diet of impediment that throws unions out for the bloody sake of victory. You look at duck and think scuzz water will remain forever. Adamant quacks can't cover the bill. Meanwhile, Duck shooting satisfies sport. Sport breeds the edifice of function for nothing. Take this drug that says ducks mean topical something in the cage match of survival. Cue brisk repartee. Tides of induction flop on sand by rushed river, progress. Your sandwich is ready, you're the meat.