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POETRY JUICE

Squeeze a moment for its essence
And flavor with emotion
Reconstitute with words
And shake the hell out of it.

If allowed to ferment 
It grows stronger,
And one can grow drunk
On the heady dream flood.

If the poet is good:
Partake and wake the next day
With a beauty-ache.

But if the poet is bitter
It can sour the stomach
Like vinegar,

Churn and burn like turpentine
And poison the mind
Like wood alcohol.

But even then, 
The stuff burns bright...