Among the infinite and therefore breach-honorable rules
We find the one prohibiting self-expression
Or rather to be fair sentimentality
From which self-expression is said to arise

A misreading it turns out
Of a critical rather than a poetic stricture
Asserting that knowledge of authorial intention
Is neither available nor desirable

Feminine lore of textiles
Stitching and unstitching
Easy for gentleman professors to dismiss
When every made thing has a maker you fools

Lift your tender eyelids maid
As opposed would you say to eyelids tough and horny
And if you’re trying to be objective then concede
No analysis without synthesis

No wonder then that she places the embroidered fabric
In the dresser lacking some number of glass knobs
Along with her unconventional punctuation
In countless thousands of fugitive stanzas