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Have a steaming hot, delicious slice of Standards.

Orb

Shade lingers with the trees,
It doesn’t drift away to the wide open spaces where there are children at play,
It does not find the open meadows, it only finds the space where it lays
I was living, searching in thought,
Picking with the boogers in my nostrils,
Dried snot, I think
Tapping my foot waiting for my nose to explode
Covering my hands with them once again
They were crumbling and sticking to my fingers
As jelly beans would, as Elmer’s glue did when it dried up,
But to talk about it would make a stomach weak, and that is sin
I was also sinking my fingers into another flower pot of thoughts
Thinking of the words, searching for the phrase, but it forgot me not
And I remembered some lost journey I had taken,
As I endlessly wandered from dot to dot
And I began to reminisce of those lost years
As they spoke and whispered into my ears
Circumstantial, conditional happiness?
But that was impolite and inappropriate and not in the same likeness
As a dog with fleas, barking at orphans, begging for beans
But my mind was freed that summer by the planter and the painter!
Who covered my life in topsoil
Who covered my life with painted things