the muddy creek bonfire of nostalgia

this was when youth came dizzy spinning hands down the pants like deepbelly laughs    
on the front end of a bawling baby just before the dreamtime blackouts              
and lying about everything when caught cause nothing seems a better rebellion,              
when clothes meant dirty bare no-shirt sunburned tree-top scratched feet,            
black bear mommas and wooly bear caterpillars ,king snakes, and stealthy owl-horned            
wingspans eclipsing riots of light in the crooked bark leaf hand arms of the          
maple gum forest sentinels, of bones and creeks, vines and thorns,          
a thousand stings and the swampy choruses of come to papa night frogs'        
jowl-bag rhythms, and you could suck sassafras roots tucked        
in the crux of a tree, do good works digging holes, go to church        
in afternoon attics where the resurrection in your pants met the burning bush of hers,              
throw rocks at friends, tell stories of stitches like sermons,drink your sweaty        
sweet tea southern life in the worm eaten cemetery kitchen of your genesis      
and wipe your full lips with the universal ohm coming out your redneck mouth like ahhh