a desperado's diary: from the outlaw's prayer john dorsey dear mother, may you hold these words close to your heart maybe your womb was a dream or perhaps the first martyred stone cast was a bullet who was revolution's mother? some say she was a pale rider given to prayer during child birth sweet babe cradled in a drifter's arms it's difficult to sing a river to sleep i know i've been bad taking drink in the presence of god my guns crying across the wind in protest last night the muse of pancho villa whispered for me to take her as a lover "a poem is a lullaby of profound hunger all the stars in the sky were once bullets you should know this" she said squeezing my palms with death's hands heart shaped resembling the scent of love some say a prayer is god's way of blessing the moonlight but every time she said "i love you" i remembered what you said right before i left home headed toward topeka quietly on the trail of hell "if you're going to shoot a man remember his song and bury him with it"