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