Classic Poem

In my mind,
such as it is,
bassoons hobnob with pelicans.
The explanation is,
since there must be an explanation,
or a truth has, of course, no reason for being,
or idea, still less, no right to be sounded—
the explanation is not
in the interest for the contrasting facts,
bassoons, very tall, very thin, very black,
pelicans, very short, very stout, very white,
any more than one's predilection for
Voltaire, very tall, very thing,
Rabelais, very short, very stout,
is interest for the contrasting facts—
but the explanation is, if it's this, that
there's kinship with the exaggeration of
bassoons and Voltaire high up,
who see and who sing life as lower,
and pelicans and Rabelais low down,
who see and who sing life as higher,
than it actually is if you're logical
and true to your middleness of virtues—
and the explanation is, if not this, that,
since in my mind,
such as it is,
bassoons hobnob with pelicans,
the deduction must be,
in lands where there must be deductions,
that this can but be an idea of some sort,
and that this screed,
such as it is,
is an examination not
into them so much as it is into me,
which is, if you reason in rhyme,
all that a screed can be,