my poet friend trims the crust from
his twenty-first polyptotonic pie ready
to slide into the literary oven gathers
the tailings rolls them out again
enough for another he decides
rolls the scraps again and yet again
the pie tins grow smaller smaller
john I say your last will be no larger
than a praecisionic patty-pan filled
with a one-stanza verse ho ho ho
get on with your life says john it
will be the tastiest I’ve ever baked
his twenty-first polyptotonic pie ready
to slide into the literary oven gathers
the tailings rolls them out again
enough for another he decides
rolls the scraps again and yet again
the pie tins grow smaller smaller
john I say your last will be no larger
than a praecisionic patty-pan filled
with a one-stanza verse ho ho ho
get on with your life says john it
will be the tastiest I’ve ever baked
