You, tall Kosciusko,

Smooth as buttocks, I trade

Blows with your arsenal.

Kosciusko, better than Patterson,

Your pockets weigh the world

Down with silver dollars. The

Americas are broad,

Stupid. When is the next operatic

Catastrophe? I do not want to

Write badly of you. I will not write

Badly! Forever yours. The skis

Of my children are cockateels, your

Head coral calcifications. Irrefragable

Bust, I glide your cleavage. I cannot

Write badly of you on holiday. Young

Turks! Young Turks! She cannot be

Your Prelude. Is she a blue hill? I

Molest horses on the vespers. This is

the letter of a mare.