For my horse, Brotherinlaw, who had no character breaking into panic at first grizzly scent. Stuff this up your ass New York City you hissing clip joint and plaster-mouthed child killer. In Washington they eat bean soup and there's bean soup on the streets and in the mouths of monuments. The bull in the grove of lodgepole pines, a champion broke his prick against a cow and is now worthless. For that woman whose mouth has paper burns a fresh trout, salt, honey, and healing music. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHAM TOWERS AT DA NANG by KAREN SWENSON WEEDS by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY IN THIS AGE OF HARD TRYING, NONCHALANCE IS GOOD AND by MARIANNE MOORE THE JOURNEY ONWARDS by THOMAS MOORE HARMOSAN by RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH THEOCRITUS; A VILLANELLE by OSCAR WILDE THE WHITE BIRDS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS A RHYMED REVIEW; 'LAUGHING MUSE' (BY ARTHUR GUITERMAN) by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |