Of times around

in the grass, languid and laid

bodies showered with sun

bleached torsos stark in

conclusion and consequence

sordid eyes slowly roll

to meet and pant and chat

the head holes greet one

another indifferently as

in life so too now in this

the slap, whether on which

pair of cheeks, the result

yet the same in chiming with

that early morning crow

to pass from sleep to wake or

however the sequence flows

out of the brain, out of those

indifferent rolling head holes

the blackbirds find so tasty

from bloody battlefields and

sweaty bedrooms and musty 

caves to windswept cliffs and

saturated depths and any ole 

locale worth coming round for

to lay down a bet or more

and lose the copper on a race

with a train, the sterling on

a needle of tar, or even the 

gold on a fight with those

indifferent rolling head holes

the blackbirds find so tasty

and the addicts line back up

as if the 382nd time will do

in these shoes or hooves or

damn deep roots diving down

the must can be questioned but

the need never answered in 

pondering sun circles and 

disappearing clouds from

the grass littered with those

indifferent rolling head holes

the blackbirds find so tasty