RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.

Saturday, December 31

"going down the road, feeling
bad," over and over in
my head, walking down the road
put up the christmas lights last
spring, but didn't plug them in
’til two days before christmas
middle path motherfuckers
often get left behind in
this egotistic ass world

Friday, December 30

hidden symmetries revealed
in random unplanned moments;
art is hoping to catch these
another memory walked,
wishing my days were full of
vast wander without backtrack

Thursday, December 29

futuristic emoji
of old 1994
Toyota truck’s parking brake
on shed, ramshackle rust roof
nailed into firm milled lumber
without half-inches shaved off
real walk one foot at a time
along real road with few cars
looking up to escape down

Wednesday, December 28

Tuesday, December 27

with deep appreciation
for rust, my scrap metal pile
has found a permanent home
live like a blur, buzzing through
temporary existence,
hoping there’s hands on this wheel

Monday, December 26

absorbing ancient texts for
salvation from disconnect
felt in my daily travels
River poison from broken
jar beads up on garbage bag;
she sells poisons to people
freight train passing underneath
buzzbot electric tower;
simple-assed man snaps picture

Sunday, December 25

Friday, December 23

Thursday, December 22

at fringe of Loungewirthistan,
shadow dweller guerrilla
contemplates regenesis
solstice means incremental
steps back to springtime tinkers
with blossoms, brown rust, and rocks

Wednesday, December 21

napping on truck bench seat at
lunch, look up at train to see
opportunity pass by

freestyle sonnet #064: FIFTH-DIMENSIONAL NONSENSE GIBBERISH SONNET

Fifth-dimensional songbird mentions in deep space
of eternal torso - internal damage kept
minimal, then minimized further as I chase
lack of *I*; these barely concealed symmetries swept

same ol' same ol' down psychic rabbitholes - tired souls
grab at fragmented wholes and consider it as real;
I don't pretend to know shit, just jabber through holes
in routine where unconscious non-senses reveal

rawness beyond intellect's microscopic yokes;
astro-logic chokes on that back of brain *self*-doubt,
crash back to *MOAR!* civilized, non-serious jokes
to cover up innate dissatisfaction bout

of depressions. Third-dimensional distractions
designed to deny fifth-dimensional actions.

rarely mentioned patreon of dirtgod
gentrified infrastructure -
industrial traditions
painted progressively bright
turkey vultures stretching out,
drying their dew-frosted wings
in early Sunday sunshine

Tuesday, December 20

"love is like a butterfly"
try to tell myself through stares
at same stale reality
extreme close-up basketball
net, searching for remnants of
fresh-bodied exuberance

Monday, December 19

man's straight-line ruler doesn't
seem to mesh with universe
and fractal geometrics
"JET FUEL DOESN'T MELT STEEL BEAMS!"
said the ironic web ad
shilling six-dollar t-shirts
dying camera's last shot
before final destruction -
frustrated man’s ghost selfie

Sunday, December 18

each industrial line stretched
taut, fastened tight, and taught to
remain in place “forever”
ravens appropriated
from viking banners stenciled
all over back yard flotsam

Saturday, December 17

lessons of rust - our purpose
is designed by others; left
to ourselves, we become flakes
smokestack industries blossomed
decades ago; now wilting
southern towns return to earth

Friday, December 16

Thursday, December 15

U.S. constitution not
sacred, not born from great god
hiding beyond these Earth clouds
melting buddha face still smiles
despite subjective nature
of the shit eyes be seeing

Tuesday, December 13

simple home comes apart in
small increments; we piece it
back together best we can
geometric mosaic
of illegit arts spread like
Mesoamerican corn

Monday, December 12

born a ghost - unseen but still
wailing, hoping physical
world realizes I exist
Sir Chillington Loungewirth builds
prophet-able pipelines right
through poor people’s dim eyeballs

Sunday, December 11

the industrial act of
carving idiotic word
“lulz” into hard metal spike
leisure class firepit strengthened
by burning haiku prayers
of index card resistance