Hank the Club

Here is Hank, so named for Charles Bukowski and Hammerin' Hank Aaron and he was a victim of Cinco de Mayo and tore off into the night in a fit of madness that extended to his owners and their extended relations (me and others) but after countless days (5) Hank was found and returned to Xanadu with a fratured leg and a third eye that's starting to grow hair again. He's back to normal now but can't go for walks for a few weeks so he tortures us all and gnaws on our skulls with a hunger that knows no satiety. Forbearnce is the watch word indeed but animals can fall back on ignorance and personality which goes a long way as we all know. California is the Golden State and I make the adjustment because it serves her and me and I reap the whirlwind which keeps me fresh and juicy for now, be I Henry Miller, Gautama Buddha, or Cato Caelin. California is the mother of possibility and I ride her like a bucking bronco in the high hills where the smog does not reach. California is the hot property that sits over an ocean and braces the brown hills that bowl in the hubris of society. That ball is gonna be... OUTTA HERE!! Gog for god.