Skin - Oxbow

The cockhorse

Teeth like sugar cubes

Plays the blues

Balls hanging

Between his between

Like crab apples

Withered and stoned

And Joseph and Jesus and Belial

Can’t hold him

The length and breadth

Of that next mile

Or the one beyond that

Or beyond that yet

Or ever

Or again

Or now

His seed spill

Like a kerosene

Or a gasoline

And it burns him

From inside and out

And the more he go

The more he got

To go

To go

Hobbing his knob

Like burnished brass

Against the fat of ass

Like jerking off was his job

And when it dies

When he dies

It is how he’s gonna die

Wrapped around hisself

So hard

Taking inches

Into yards

Riding riding riding

Cockhorse hating his hide

And hiding his hate

Potentate

Of the small

And the great