What’s fair play in poetry
I don’t mean what are the rules
Inasmuch as for some time it has been the case
That the best rules are those unspoken
Those incapable of being spoken
And poets therefore have labored at the miserable job
Of reinventing the wheel

Or to shine a sunnier light
Poets have always had to exercise care
Lest they commit some blunder
Blatantly obvious to the world
Though entirely opaque it might be
To themselves

You should rise above concern about the world

You should probably insert an image from time to time
So the current exercise is already wanting
You should attend to the sounds
And try to establish some rhythm preferably subtle
So wanting wanting and wanting

And shouldn’t there be some sort of theme
I mean shouldn’t you have something to say
And is it a problem that stating and expressing
Never quite match up
And even so mustn’t a statement or for that matter an expression
Contain some content

And what of foul play
Aren’t some topics word choices images and attitudes
Self-evidently forbidden

And if the rules are hidden
Is there such a thing as cheating
Starting off a poem with a conjunction say
Or deploying an unfocused demonstrative
And yet a decent poem might begin
And on that day

. . .

And pronouns sheesh
Some he or she or it gallivanting around
Performing actions unanchored random unimaginable
And don’t get me started on I

And what on God’s green earth makes a poem good

And adjectives so cheap
Onerous
Shy
Salty
Transparent
Uncultivated
Snippy
Malodorous

Wit wisdom sagacity discernment juice
Skill ease virtuosity flair sprezzatura
Peace justice compassion beauty truth
Fact
Nobody on earth can write a poem
And yet millions of poems have been written
Or maybe just one

So love a poem as you love your neighbor
Let it do its thing