without bullshit or insults

there were village raids

but you can't kill all the niggers,

he said,

returning fire

running from the tunnel

into the next tunnel.

the white man with the mad mouth,

probing the coast

dispensing weaponry

squeezing the Mormon ghost,

dug up the golden tablets

and a teamster's ticket to the greater kingdom

where the saints shagged good guns

without serial numbers,

waiting in ambush for the settlers 

heading west

across a mountain meadow

where Indians prowled

to make their dope connections

hoping for a couple head of cattle or a horse

without bullshit or insults

holding history in their red hands

before the lynchings began in earnest.