Where the Hemlocks flourish

 

Bury my Heart at Wounded Knee, where the Hemlocks flourish;

so my soul may find respite in the trample of the buffalo,

the dance of wolf and jackal. Then the winds wails, nourish

through the mountains, bring a new Spring over Winter famished.

Put Daffodils for my eyes and forget my tomb, let it scaffold

itself on the trails of Crows and Ravens, once told...

as the bowstrings unfasten, let me rest my Soul embellished.

Forget my name, forsake my place, where the Hemlocks flourish;

as Poison Ivy gives root and wormwood gives merit.

Let there be Vinegar and Salt for the Earth to crack fiendish

laughter at any passer by, lest they tag along. Swedish

kisses and meatballs along with rotten fish iron prized, heavy!

So that nobody travels my roads and carries my weights, levy

the rulers and precepts upon precept. Fall through the dirt, ghoul wish!

Put under threshold, build Casinos on, where the Hemlocks flourish;

let them greenskins roam free and flap their gums around the plot.

A copper coin under my tongue, for silver has become sullen, boarish!

Gold has lost its shine, diamonds crumbled in heat – cherish

the time you have, Love God and Country, for you know not

the times and tribulations, who rises and falls like Mercury. Shot

on the Moon and back again, the Spitfire had to trot cherries!