The Goats of Kansas

The goat of Kansas seduced me on a hashish drive to the west,
where the plain is brown and the earth invisible,
out there you swim with stars,
alone, between the lines
that only goats connect.

As human pumped up dark water from the well,
the spiked raw grass dug into my feet
the goat on the hill tilted
her head so gently
I came inside of her kicking
infinity.

Joe Kansas sung of women in neon bar,
I drank the Miller thinking of her,
knowing Joe had her to,
out here morality is dry as dust
and the goats rock the land
and the man.

I almost had a human woman in Kansas,
She was fifteen wearing dirty white,
her eyes shown like murder only
the psychosis of Christianity;
I turned my back and wheeled
onto the Goats of Kansas.
Impeccable sanity.