A minor detail really, rather
circumstance, Remember – in it
You are weakening, Child –

I mean that as The Word
of Every Army You've faced
bravely, You ride – My Heart,

Beating to Carry, My Perfect
Elongated Face – bit, saddle, tack,
and a Cooler, for your beer.

I would turn your bitch Out,
but, it's My Day Off – In Large part
due to Your Mom – yes – Your Mother.

The Womb – from Whose
Faith has Agreed, with who You Are,
Yes, it's The Absolute Truth –

Then, and something for the lean
mention of the show to Mom –
You Long for Her – but differently,

She Has – been asked to get The Show
running. Today You're more Me
than you - all this gaywad

verse you throw around –
regarding my "chariots of fire";
have You ever got off

for One second? – Wherefore
dost come My Grain?
And Should you see My Thirst?

I've Galloped,
queen of the plains –
With Out f*cking – stopping Once,

yelling giddy-up all gargantuaphone-ish
spit up and sput – but,
You Also brushed My Mane

for the Most Precious Moment
In The Universe – You Are
Child, Precious Moments,

on shelves, of mothers, who've
been kept away from People.
Sequestered Precious, You may

make the rules – not give
the Grades. Also, Note, Poet,
the particular Fear that Awared You Here

Upon This Visioned Prophet Horse.
Simply Ask your wife – In Morning's
Light – to defer to You,

stubbornly & to No End,
should the other, yet un-
named, fear arrive –

upon Her lap – placed
like that look in man's eye
where You know it's gonna go

all satan real soon. Now,
Your Kitten Awaits You on the
Couch. Dude. All Ready.