Corded muscles of the neck ferry the voice of sky,
Charon of words adrift in a salivary dislocated sine,
A fracture of breath, the stenciled rowing of a sigh.
Psychopomps of moonlight, past-throated vultures,  
Carrion of clouds even if stripped clean in vulpicide,
Even if our scorched and coining tongues tip at stars.

The young man from the country side was green,
With women,never seen.
Never knew their ways,
With them I am awkward,he says.
That would not do his uncle thought,
Life for him would be distraught.
So he bundled his nephew in his car,
To a place called"Lily's Bar".
To the lady beside him he said,
You will get well paid,
I leave with you an innocent young boy,
Return to me a man of joy.