What tends to happen with many a poem is You hop in, then land up somewhere else Like driving to Texas and landing in Maine Or Going to India but ending up in the Caribbean
And it’s not nonsensical Certainly not, The poet is very much as sane as You or me
But rather, That walking or jogging at a Steady pace as you’d do in a novel Or essay or racing through a Movie The poet instead likes to hop and skip and Jump and race and dance and Twirl and roll and fly
So much so that those whose minds would rather Stick to a steady pace Are absolutely ******* in knots
In this case, One of two things may occur Some may scratch their heads and give up, deeming poetry “not their thing” While others, May read the poem in bits, At their own pace, Maintaining a slow and steady while acknowledging and appreciating and analyzing the hops and leaps and twirls- They are like detectives, Tracing the possible routes through which the poet may have traversed
Coming up with theories, And although a theory may or may not be accurate...
We don’t know how humans evolved But we appreciate it all the same
(Feel free to comment with a different title suggestion, I’m not sure the one I currently have embodies what I’m going for)