To bless his brain,

To stop that heart

From taking the time

To dip the car in kudzu.

There isn't a single windshield,

Just screened in stars.

Farm winds blanket churches

And it kills him

::

How kids can be so cruel.

The director doesn't want to know

Himself any better.

From what stone

The producers found inside his brain,

He fashioned us a prairie populated

With wild dogs and missing children.