Los Lectores Pueden Poner El Título Que Quieran a Este Poema

And here I am Mother, slick haired and heaving
A kind of elk, something, a sort of human elk
Digitally inserted into the prehistory of his nation
Twenty feet tall and roaring and extinct

Mother, I’m a mammal, when I’m sleeping I’m exuding
As the little pony reaches the shimmering pines
Here I am Mother, struggling to hear
Here’s my new body, made wholly of hair

Mother, here I am, a grown man in the snow
Mother, the dark here is sort of enormous
As the little pony passes through the sacred meadows
Here I am holding the breasts of my wife

Twenty feet tall and roaring and extinct
The dark here, Mother, is truly enormous
As the little pony enters the shimmering pines
Dear Mother, I’m a mammal, in love with the pines