Manure Wagons of the Stars
And there a manure wagon of the autonomous region passes
Ay the manure wagon heaves of it
She to his mumble plugs an ear
God it smells of it
It speeds the air
And from the moon hangs a pretty little cloud of it
The day is cut from it, in hourly pies of it
There a mountain of it with
Crag-fastened ram and smells of ewe
Wagon wheels must turn.
Flags must flap, our field defiled.
Dang ye wheel-borne corn-cobblers!
This drawing will appear in the exhibition David Scher: “The first bird wore a bird costume” at Pierogi, 155 Suffolk Street, Lower East Side, Manhattan), October 14-November 16 (opening reception: Sunday, October 15, 6-8pm).