Untitled ("And it is look'in clear,singer's is,")

A taunting, ritual-sounding poem that turns rural materials and burial language into a threat of contempt.

A short, scornful address that opens as weather clears ('look'in clear') and tips into accusation, with 'unaccounted mangement' kept 'away' and the speaker daring an unnamed 'you' to mutilate the Southern landscape itself. The dare runs through 'shave a carolina pine' and a 'georgian lylie' to 'his sixe,' then hands the man over to burial 'there with alexander.'

The poem fuses bookkeeping and butchery: 'diminate caps' and 'unaccounted mangement' put the threat in the language of accounts left unsettled, while the central insult imagines pruning the South down 'to his sixe' and dunking it in 'any mixture thats is / naturally thick.' That thick natural mixture reads as both sap and something darker, a baptism gone wrong. The turn 'I will leave that to your gods' is the speaker's refusal to do the dirty work and a contemptuous demotion of the man's allies to small-g 'gods,' the same crowd 'going to bury / him there with alexander' - grandiose burial for someone the speaker plainly thinks is not Alexander. The dialect spellings ('look'in,' 'lylie,' 'sixe') are the persona's own idiom and carry the regional, spoken authority the lines depend on. The work is very short and a couple of words ('diminate,' 'sixe') are unstable, so any precise paraphrase of those stays partial; the overall movement from clearing sky to contemptuous funeral is clear enough.