Barnyard fumes of hallucination float doggy style across fence lines.
Skunk weed scratches heavily hung rocky mountain oysters.
Lusty eyes, swish, swish, flies mount.
Rosa y blanco bovine breasts attract greener pastures.
Rows of feathered worshipers cluck praises to a confident cock.
Late October moon fools the morning lord to early song.
Insidious rape, cut, cut, hens sexed up.
Jueves del muerto served to rogue skunks.
Glutinous swine root to a masturbating beat of putrefied flesh.
Slow, leisure back rolls keep the food whores employed.
Throaty squeals, drip, drip, maggots rejoice.
Grasa de cerdo slips inside smooth intestinal sheets.
Young, auburn ponytails roll softly in sweet scented hay.
Father’s pitchfork hides bloody traces of furious discovery.
Innocence plucked, fuck, fuck, afterbirth eaten.
Hacer el amor is deadly in the country.
Taxation and citified minds, slow death to wide open spaces.
Pass the ballot box; 120 acres for sale, zoned for industrial use.
Blacktop land, weep, weep, deer in the headlights.
Desparacio, the quiet buzz of life.
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1 comment:
That first line alone is a classic.
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