homespun coarse and
cornfed hoarse their voices
ricochet like
steelguitar strings (stringemuptight) in song...
(lone and free and loong live we
the sons of sons--
protektors of
the menandboys of republikasrpskatxss...)
the lilac tinted shadows
tossed from wilted
stetsons polka-dot
a barricade
where meninblack on sight are shot
(oh)
rifleproud they rigid stand on hardened hoofs
as hornyhands a-grip each one by one another softascotton man—
and lo—
without
ado afurther
they offwhip encrustedbootsnchaps and sweatyhose: a dusty rose
their
garters liberated dan
gle.
with arms toward the cresting sun and
members slipped
between their thighs (a changingdance) (ooh) (daintysigh)
they shake their
tales and roll their eyes:
a show of hidden
mettle while the swollenblack buzzz
flies...