Don’t understand
that poetry
that wants to be so clever
only a few PhDs can comprehend:
insular and safe, protected
from the public,
talking amongst themselves,
talking to the like-minded.

Put on their cap and gown
and transform into professor poet…
Pack my verses tightly
in little Russian dolls
and speak an obscure dialect…

Or be the one they sneer at:
popular, accessible. Accept,
gladly, such dirty words and
be transparent to the average Jane,
who just want to know
someone understands.