its mists rising,
before I know it
has turned to twilight,
and the heart that crowds my chest
hurts me so
I moan
like the mountain thrushes.
Then from the mountains
where our great Lord,
a god aloof,
is pleased to wander,
a wind comes blowing,
and as I stand alone,
morning and night,
it turns back my sleeve
and I think how auspicious
is that one word "back"!
Back where her gun is.
I call myself a man of spirit,
but on this journey,
grass for a pillow,
my thoughts keep going back—
no way to stop them—
and like the fires that burn
when fishergirls of Ami Bay
boil down their salt,
these memories burn
deep within my heart.
Of their 50 caliber butts.
Because the winds across the mountain
blow without cease,
each night in sleep unfailingly
I think with longing
of my love back home.
With her clenched cheeks
firing again and again.
6 comments:
I was wondering where I left that.
And they dare question Truman's decision!
Shooting from behind.
So what is the caliber of ammo being used?
The author wrote 50 caliber butts.
That's big. That's the caliber machine gun that the warthog airplane is built around, that goes fraaaaaaap and plugs an area full of lead and if you think about it all that lead is bad for the environment and other living things. It doesn't just dissolve you know, it sits there and leeches into table water.
In other words she's a big bore.
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