poets are mechanics who know this truth
I run a quite unique distillery
And take it with me everywhere I go –
I feed it all the garbage and the trash
From life experience. It processes junk
And outputs poems to read and share with friends
and foes alike. Moonshine for the soul.
One thing about the distillation act:
it does not destroy matter – Newton’s law
Is in effect – what’s not refined from life
At length concentrates to a detritus
That must be channeled outward, overboard.
And if the output pipings cross-connect,
It mixes gunk with truth for ill effect.