So, okay...here's like my semi-official Artist's Statement then...
POSTMODERN-SO REAL-SURREAL-POPDADA-ABSTRACTOID- NEO-ICONOGRAPHY MAYA MUFFIN(or, da birth o' de 'bloids)

"Da(da) Dogboy Requiem-Relicario-Rodeo-Doodah--Boddhi-Bloidthang,
Life, Such As it were... (Hasta la Bow-wow, Baby)"

My statement? Okay:

Transition supposition predisposition; All aboard!!! ("Gothcher tickets, Kidzzzzzzzz?) Hang on... we're lettin' ya's in onna little secret here (shhh...) And by the way, there are no refunds on your (or anyone's for that matter) expectations, okay?

Here's the deal...The "Life Express" is leavin' da station.... Been doin' that since the moment we was all conceivified... Yep! Life's short. It's long too. It's hard sometimes (LOTSA times). It's sad sometimes. It hurts sometimes.It's really good sometimes.

But now n'again, it's absotootly freaking glorious. Oboyo! Bottom line - life is love. With that in mind, life is a gift, a joyride, a journey, a spiritual path, a walk inda park, a shot inda dark, a querulous lark, a trip onda ark, bad rhymes, non-sequitirs, shits n' giggles, stoopid niggles, laughter n' lust, rust to dust, asses to ashes, and nurture and compassion and passion and clearly not fashion. And it ain't on the fuggin' TeeVee neither. And our eventual transcendent passing from this form to the next is yet another of those terminal transitions.

Old Mac Donald Hadda Farm fer gosh sakes (quack, tweet, oink, moo, meow, arf, bow-wow, woof, bleat, baaah, roar, twitter, snorfle, grunt, growl, grrrrrrrr, gobble-gobble, snort, whinny yadda-yadda etcetera....) Me, all I got is this thing we call Bruce's spirit... Go figure...(E-I-E-I-Oh-oh!)

The Comic-karmic-kosmic-dharmic implications notwithstanding, if it's sour, throw it out (Ver Hassestak Orta...Dona-mel da feese Hinkpool; Tok Eeena-Eeet!!!! (L'sGA, goddamit anyway). "Life is a miracle; it is a miracle one does not dissolve in one's bath like a lump of sugar" (Picasso). "Peculiar travel plans are dancing lesson from god (Bokonon). Indeed! "Makin' molehills outta mountains and, what of it?!" (Krozabeeep). And then there's: "it is fully practical to create that which has form in the silence.the noise art makes is usually heard by those whose lives listen to God.
it is not adviseable to cheat that which has no other stake than the deeps and brights of all man." 
- Kenneth Patchen 

Be that as it may, Polishin' up the old charkas a bit in the meantime can't hurt, eh?….

"Stan the man can scan the plan, man, from all the way in Yucatan,man; I do not like green eggs an' ham, man"(Toucan Sam). So be it, man.

And so, with that in mind:

Midnight Scrambling Ramblings

Still it persists..late night lazycrazyhazy - - -

then...

rooftop lures me out to play, to check the sky for who knows what...
song in head won't go away; not even one I like much. damn.

stars n' redmars piercing cloudhaze,
whippoorwill jabber, unclogging the silence,
tho' frog reply tentative at best.

not to do or say or wonder,
but subterfuge over subtlety often finds the mark, albeit awkwardly

leftover sentient sentiment slips silently surreptitiously subliminally
sublimely supine....(alliteration never my strong suit of armo(i)r(e)
(all) anyway...)

So, from whence comes the response but from smoky roadweary bleary,
dreary, inquiry in the first (and perhaps, last as well) place?

"Ole!" (he say) today! Getting more'n a bit carried away for a time -

Not one to gabble without cause (just, due, or otherwise)...
the crickets are holding all the aces just the same...

god, life, she had me hummin' - for awhile at least. cruisin' on ahead now - peaceful light. Yeah