Classic Poem

What Honeythunder the garbageman eats is garbage.
that which he leaves behind on his paper plate uneaten is also garbage.
what he thinks about what he eats is garbage.
the damned paper plate itself is likewise garbage.
the plastic hospital basket with the wax cats in it is synthetic garbage.

the slow fire sermon of the involving public truck he hums hymns behind eats garbage & ergo is garbage.
ergo is garbage.
& garbage too the ornate flora that counts the knocking hours.

however he himself is a little lower than the garbage.
but not every quaquaversal thing is garbage.
not the note of every mother-trumpet.

no for there is salt.
there is the gold flow.
there is shooting pool.