Folksong for the Midwestern Masses

If I had a hammer and a sail
the wind would.

Dust had, either way,
both matter.

One way at once
bulbs burn and billow.

Radiant sails, onward,
mind turning jade (on sale at Pier One).

A hot rock for comfort.
Hammer smash settee.

When I am stone cold sink
fathomable darkness flammable shirt,

politics like cork,
gender to cover

your thighs like the downy,
cattleroving tracks not footprints – but the whale will.