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...THREE MOMENTS IN PARIS: 1. ONE O'CLOCK AT NIGHT by MINA LOY THE BARREL-ORGAN by ALFRED NOYES CROSSING THE BAR by ALFRED TENNYSON EXPECTATION by GLADYS BRIERLY ASHOUR PSALM 53 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE TRUST by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN LES BARICADES MISTERIEUSES (AFTER FRANCOIS COUPERIN) by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |