El Torero Cabaret

Heavy UpOn The Shoulders,
A Mountain Giant,
And From WithIn The Dominion Of Its Skull,
All Wet And Bundled Into A Carriage Of Blankets,
The Grit And Dew...
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Up Above The Slope And Grade,
To The One-Eyed In Recluse And Wool,
Picking At The Meat Left In Fugal Wicker,
When At Leisure Not By The Heated Of Discussion,
Resting Its Head By A Grinding Brook...
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When Alerted By Snouted Draft,
It Learns To Lean Back UpOn The Nearly Deaf,
A Minute For Depressions Left To ReMind,
For It To Organize InTo Romantics...
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Chocolately Enticeing To The Immigrant,
Whose Lines Lead Out From Places Of Plantains To Tambourines,
Surrounding All States To Surrender,
Mothers Hurriedly Takeing Those Whites Off ...
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These Days Be As Enveloped As Be Stamped,
Cleaner Than The Ways Of Older Pushes,
Loyal To The Swerve...
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A Riposte Over The Bulge,
Answering To The Trickle-Down,
InTo The Coded Cork...
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For Twins... InTwine... In Trust To Be Not With Sleep's Brother,
As Those Of  Lacking Be Respected In Age...
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Though It Be Only Performed In Etiquette,
Never True To The Cutlery... And Seldom Seen Parrying With The Cloth.