mayflower
mama, speech is no deliverance
in the absence of mercy
when the end of deed's for sale
to done in minstrels
sicka talking my chronicle
so they sing
with steel string and harp
until the reverberation
slides the ground from my feet
and i'm right confounded
sent elsewhere
to make it with a new daddy
found among pilgrims in train stations
and crooked desert trees
stopping often, moving slow
i'm privelaged to liberty of inconsequence
from cutting dead the worry
and guilt
that telling breeds
me and pilgrim
will make weight of exploit
mama, saying little
mama, binding nothing