egg of hooch

How many glasses of water
Can a heron hide in a field of tall grass?
Like a boiled unpeeled egg on a huge
Detrimentally white plate is a piece of fate,
Tables and chairs lost in a crumpled space
Have legs to wander, and a bottle of hooch
Is a photograph of Homer (the very guy who
Hadn’t written the hymns), and centaurs roam
To shed their hooves in front of the imminent nonsense
And impregnate the mares;
The offspring invariably end up with the FBI.