Elegy of the Midwest

He who do, does.
He who don’t, don’t.
Really, simple as that.
He who is, was,
he who ain’t, ain’t.
Why argue ’bout it?
Take time with it,
the meaning a does.
When the doing ain’t
done, it becomes don’t.
No matter what it was
whatcha meant by that.
Y’all walk along that
divide, of what it
meant, or why it was
meant for them who does.
Life grows old with taint
on the vine. Don’t
Regret it. Life that’s
Lived gotta end, ain’t
no man go forever, it
grows and wanes, does
the doing, then buzz
goes the fly. Was
goes to is; don’t
say y’ain’t seen compost. Does
grass grow on that?
Like John in 1637, it
ends on water, faint
against the mornin’, paint
on a cross, saying who was.
Me and you, ends it
the same. Hearts don’t
pump forever. Simple as that:
He who do, does.

Don’t that matter? Was it
a forever “does,” then forever’d be
was. And that ain’t right.

Published by AC Moore

My goal is to one day change the world in the same way Shakespeare did: by infusing the thoughts of the human race with such language and turn-of-phrase that they say them daily, and never even know it was I who wrote it.

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