All I have to offer is a poem
This might strike you as pretentious folly
As insipid nonsense, or just ho hum;
In the best of worlds, you would be jolly
But ours is not the best of worlds today
If it is confusing or strange or dense
If just what this thing means is hard to say
Cliché or silence supply a defense
Against that most awful of smug retorts:
“You didn’t get it. It’s really profound.”
Subtle readers know that, as in some sports,
Meaning is coy, and wishes to be found
Break your baffled silence; simply reply!
Collapse the distance between text and eye
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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