Virgil's Cow

Is drowsy as a dog in the Petit Trianon, sniffing the rim of the sky for

bovine taut to the Auroral R o a r. In his dreams he flies like a pot-bellied pig

uttering songs of undigestible beauty. Building complexcommunalnests
ofintricatelywovenvegetation like a weaverbird soured on sea tide . 

In the tall grasses he livesin MooMoo land, listening to the muzak 
of his own kazoo, under the broad-brimmed hat ofhis ownshapelyass

In the smkehouse, where waters change to wine, grass fires & snuff films
w/ halfclosed eyes in a seaofthyme the angels'scarlet mouths caroused
beneath myudders