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
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