In Honduras cotton smoked and burned for days



To be outdone by Guatamala



To be outdone by Texas



With a pitchfork and a bell



Grubby little runners bring her news of me second hand



I won't tell her roaches eat my clay sculpture



I wanna tell her I am headless I am headless



She's walking on the great bloody dirt down there



Sleeping in the soft brown ring down there



Grubby little runners bring her news of me second hand