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...