This poem is just about sex or rhyme.
This poem is just about birds that sing.
This poem is just about love or time.
This poem is not about anything.
This poem does not have repetition.
This poem does not have a single rhyme.
This poem does not have a condition
Or reason or rhythm, symbol or time.
Poetry has used up all of the forms.
There is no such thing as anything new.
I have rejected each one of the norms.
There is no such thing as that which is True.
So this is not a sonnet or a poem –
It is a fragile hummingbird snow-golem.
