A poem should be allowed
to say something;
good ones often have.
It isn’t by necessity
a fakir’s cabalistic drone
to mesmerize a co-ed or a cobra.
And although permitted to shimmer,
if it does be, it should be
what the poet meant it to mean;
And if it is to be a globed fruit,
then —mute or not —it should remain
not convertible into invisible clothes
for self-centered nudes.