In the Canyons, Hidden Farms

If you've never seen The Seven Samurai,

I'll tell you about Kikuchiyo, the seventh: drunk

When the other samurai find him, they whack him

Upside the head with a stick, he rears up like a bear,

Roars, swings, stumbles but they keep on messing

With the slob, so obviously a joke: he shows them

His papers, they all know he stole them—he can't even read;

He scratches at himself, half-naked: his bare ass

Hangs out of his rags; he hops around like a monkey,

Sticks out his tongue, flips dumb farmers the bird—

But The Seven Samurai is three and a half hours long:

Kikuchiyo can't remain throughout a silly clown—

(The self's a greedy river, our low banks overflow)

His last expression's hidden: dying fast, face down.