After interviewing numerous of Bean Newton's associates from the mid-1990s, it is still not certain whether or not this poem refers to artisinal distilling, something Newton wrote reams of essays, business plans, and at least one novella about, describing, among other things, a possible future as an entrepreneur in the spirits industry.
Newton was never able to pursue this dream, of course, and may only be tangentially invoking the despair of his failure in this "batch," numbers one through six of which have been lost. -- E.W. Wilder
Bean, Batch #7
Kinderthrid reaches
disastercuts--the
smallplastic animaux &
nextor dog wamp; vamps he
disjests nextipple : keyclosure
and batram, he
chunks cherrysome, lythe
& lyre, headsprinkler's sure
durance. Tread
steps garland-wise
flowerpeddles shock--
nextday dreamputty
bangs home.