A boy like the mother of another boy

Stops up the ears of the city. And a boy

Alone in a cornfield cries —

He doesn’t know how he came here

Or why he has to stay a boy

Alone in corn for hours.

And then you find a boy who is an otter,

Who moves like a wave. And you have a net.

What more? The handsome lords

Are leaping up to capture golden rings.

Perhaps the boy will follow after.

His frothy horse first chooses up then down —

But the saddle satisfies them less

And less, both the rider and the horse.

The boy would like to carry the weight,

The bodies of men, and be a horse.

The punctured horse, he wants

To stop a while and be a boy.