Prayer to St. Joan of Arc

   
   "Prayer to St. Joan of Arc"
  
   Feast Day May 30th
Patroness of Service Women  

   Most extraordinary soldier, you insistently proclaim "Let God be served first!"  You began by winning many victories and received the plaudits of princes, but then you were given to the enemy and cruelly put to death.  Instill in us the desire to serve God first and perform our earthly tasks with that idea ever in our minds.
  
Au nom du Pere et du Fils et du Saint-Esprit.  Amen  

Red Fox Suburbia--Jacob wrestling an Angel

   
   "Red Fox Suburbia--Jacob wrestling an Angel"
  
   Nevada was beginning to enjoy the morning paralysis, knowing not every essence is on the nefarious spectrum, and that sometimes God extracts our attention, for God tests the just man, and that means woman too, in a manner of speaking.
   After a sloppy yawn, some spittle flickering, yet not enough to gross out a Levite, Nevada went to the window of her mild and modest habitat placed within a bucolic geography, as if Faulkner was still wearing Colonel Sanders' wardrobe, but drinking the heavy spirits, and didn't prefer it extra-crispy.
   Outside the window, entertaining with its handsome countenance delivered downwards to a bushy tail stood a Vulpes vulpes, the fox of all the foxes, looking at a mole, though none was there, as if sensing the frequency buried beneath the Earth--an Earth Tesla said he could crack with a certain frequency, but all he desired was to offer free energy, which of course made corporations a bit uneasy.
   Nevada knew, but wanted no part, only interested and curious concerning walks in the park, jellyfish, and the make-up of the essences contained within the Celestial Hierarchy, as hinted at by Dionysius the Areopagite.  It was a modest way to pass time, and today she had to get another exotic fish for her tank, to kick the Fight Club of relaxation up a bit, and show her fractured father a bit of smooth contentment, merged with, of course, the high-pitched sounds of Valkyries recollected by sopranos still in league with Wagner.    
   And boy, are goldfish resilient.  She won one at a fair when she was approaching adolescence, and it lived all the way till her last juicy zit.  

Red Fox Suburbia--After the Wolf Moon

   
   "Red Fox Suburbia--After the Wolf Moon"
   
   Nevada picked up the 2018 Farmers' Almanac, noticing that the frostbite from the ignition of January was due to a Wolf Moon, them carnivorous canines hunting and stocking, forgetting the squirrel's nut-hiding talents, gorging instead with high protein meats and savory bone calcium, to better build a member of the gelled pack, in order to hunt; furthermore, the path-finders never take down prey larger than their worth, not into wasting energy, and showing threats as did King Solomon, with simple facial gestures, as if Clint Eastwood in a movie showcasing a friendly orangutan and a gleeful granny armed with a double-barrel shotgun--never a 12, but a 20 gauge for less kick and more potent accuracy.  
   Nevada soldiered through the day till @ Walgreens, where the spicy beef jerky promised bits of iron and cowboy juice for the wrangle.  It was all good, as long as nobody spun her spurs with uncouth scrutiny.       

A trash-man and beer

   
   "A trash-man and beer"
   
   Back in Arkansas, during the late 1980's when WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE reminded a heavy metal bard that when you step off the Hound, shit can happen, and with my pals; moreover, Holland a constant fixture, yet he wore no permibuzz, only at proper times; plus, frosty yet elegant streets of a halfway decent suburbia, and in the Pie Wagon, burgundy in hue and metaphysical fashion, being told by the driver to give the trash-man a beer, and we did, and the trash-man said, in the middle of his duties:  "Thanks guys."  What a great day in America, for us.  

Miami Vice Theme HD

Red Fox Suburbia

   
   "Red Fox Suburbia"
   
   Over-looked, and its humor unnoticed many times, unlike the illusive coyote, the Red Fox (Canis lupus rufus) likes to put on a show, more of a sincere trickster than the camouflaged coyote, stealing to entertain, like a juggler, but with computers now, we relax, forgetting that Brownies exist, metaphorically to say.
   And Nevada wasn't a chain-smoking suburbanite phony housewife unpacking the groceries in germ-catching plastic bags, when it's always better to brown bag.  Nicely packed bag-boy, as the old late-night kinda show snorted, along with Pea Boy, and it might be a fellow in a Spider-Man shirt, always going frozen, and liking fish sticks, if not the puzzling symmetry of a symmetrical culmination.  And the rodeo continued for the bull-rider, and ladies always love a cowboy, boots high and beards low, though with mustache spunk, and a pinch of love under their cheek.
   Nevada just played it cool at the mall, ignoring the fact that all the locals were missing.  

Perfecting the Levites

   
   "Perfecting the Levites"
   
   You know why Jesus never had to wash His hands?  Because they were always clean.  And they were always clean because He washed them.  God Bless Donald J. Trump.  And make Mexico great again.  Yet, we love their holy and hot women.  Men too.