Crazy Mark Twain, Neal Cassidy, Burroughs invocations…may you have the last word, we’s allus gonna die anyhaus.

Ther was a time many mile markers from New Amsterdam ago, where in these here parts there were, what I can only call an abundance of game birds and game dogs. Now, im not talking about chained up pit-bulls rotting away in Philly or in anywheres in New York (Lord knows fools abound). Those sad, forgotten places where these beautiful beasts pay their pittance at the hands of man. Good blood rotting away in the hands of a blood lesser than. (and game-cocks included, Ive seen enough and I wont comment furthur but I will tell you that there are mirrors involved) What im talking about, is of a time a time when this long and winding road from the supposed city, would not let a peaton go by un noticed. I could tell from the re-lay race or telegraph of the sonar of a rooster or a dog, what time it was…or if someone was walking and surely at an un-Godly hour. Last thing I remember was straight up poisenings all around. My land is a burial ground. Dogs were let loose then at a certain hour, and if you were walking by necessity, this was your battle ground. I can hear serenades from where I am right now, but im sure its about how one man is gonna cut another down. Amanecera, y veremos. Ive been in all types of ant farms, from Liberty City and Overtown to…well, lets just say the rain is good in washing away our sins. It justed started to rain as I write this. One thousand little kiity paw prints on my tin roof. And I leave you with this…Where you thought you came from, is no longer there. Where you thought you were going, well…it wasn’t there to begin with. And where youre at…aint worth a shit unless YOU CAN GET AWAY FROM IT!