the bigness of cannon
is skilful,

but i have seen
death's clever enormous voice
which hides in a fragility
of poppies. . . .

i say that sometimes
on these long talkative animals
are laid fists of huger silence.

I have seen all the silence
full of vivid noiseless boys

at Roupy
i have seen
between barrages,

the night utter ripe unspeaking girls.

Buffalo Bill's
defunct
  who used to
  ride a watersmooth-silver
  stallion
and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat
  Jesus

he was a handsome man
  and what i want to know is
how do you like your blueeyed boy
Mister Death