Poetry doesn’t need you to coax out its meanings or to tease out its
strategies or to unpack its bags.
Poetry doesn’t need you to vibrate or widen your mindscope or
suckle your cowsack or snuff up your hornblow or sweat out
your insides or dredge up your backwash or kick in your
facecloth or chisel your eyeteeth or sink into quicksand.
—Ken Cormier, two sections from “Poetry Doesn’t Need You,” The Tragedy in My Neighborhood (Dead Academics Press, 2011)