PENCIL MARKS BENEATH

whenever i complete a poem
i'm always filled with bliss
i've used some words like boards and nails
to build an edifice

but as you stroll my neighborhood
and my shack is espied
you're only seeing the facade
and not the junk inside

for there were boards i ripped away
and nails that wound up bent
i've often thrown whole windows out
in wild experiment

i've also heard it mentioned
in a different sort of trade
that you would not eat sausage
if you saw how it was made

be grateful i can type this
for you can't decode my print
might be chinese you'd be reading
if you didn't have a hint

but this poem's all nice and tidy
and i hope that you will dig
take note, i'm not alone
when starting out just like a pig

for all the world's great artists
who have skills, armed to the teeth
have covered up with swirls of paint
the pencil marks beneath