Aint farm

Swallowing waspish tunnels down sesame seed holes
Watching organizers eat beans
Wandering the funny farms of time constraints
And all the aints
When the wishing wells were dry
The tin pools were laughing their dinner
Tin pan hats drinking corn husk fees
And the slumbers snored
Waking the distant hours the shadows were removed
Like an unpoached egg, only different
The shaving cream hunted for water
But the ice skates were removed
Placed in something dishwasher safe
With the tin pan hats and the corn husk fees
There's no getting used to it
Spectacle backwards,chins tucked in
You know what I mean
And the grass tucked backward
What to do
I'd lost my sense of taste
I'd lost my sense of aint
When the tins aint green beans
Time slipped away but I heard it pant
The lights out one snip at a time
Two tubes away and sent them to dinner
Returned with a cat, fish, and a nose
I gave up smelling after that except when fishing
I could always smell them a thousand feet below
My pole a smelt divining rod
All covered in felt and garbage compacted
The whole thing seemed silly so I gave up fishing
Just below the surface where aloe veras
Willing the ellipticals into circles
And burns are never the third degree
Egging on the circles, the choke holds came
They're never around when you want them to be
I invited them to dinner but they were all choked up
Some pundit shook his finger at me
Centrist
I wove the ellipticals into circles
Blessed the food and went to bed
The next day the owls were sprouting.

Denis Streeter 11/3/11