This dump truck head of mine
picks everything up and packs it in.
Thoughts don’t get lost. They buzz
around like flies on food.
I write to keep the maggots out,
to fend off clutter and confusion.
But stuff keeps piling in, so much,
so fast, it’s hard to sort and profit by.
I decided once to quit. I declared
the landfill full.
From the junk pile a glimmer,
something bright rolling free,
and I — oh yes!
was back in business.