Inescapably, we characterize, categorize, and conceptualize a world perceived by our very own human brains. Our brains are particularly good at pattern recognition. Its the difference between stopping with traffic at a red light once you realize a sea of break lights signifies deceleration; and mistaking the stripped fur and size of a tiger for the common house cat. Pattern distinction is an essential part of surviving. If you realize that gravity constantly forces you to the floor every time you jump off the last step coming down the stairs, you'll apply that pattern of jump and fall to everything else.
     I make this point because, like life poetic verse relies on distinct patterns. The more amiable that pattern is the more relatively accepted the poem. But what happens when any sensible pattern is undetectable? Our brains immediately become engaged in discovering its existence. So much so that to not find a pattern triggers an overt dislike or rejection. Particularly when verse lapses intro prose and the message is so convoluted, you may as well pour out a can of alphabet soup and decipher any hidden meaning you can. But why not enjoy the soup? Soup and poetry are both cooked in a relatively small pot, allowing all of their flavors to amalgamate. The mistake is thinking that they were ever anything different. Don't read so much into the message, just tell me how it tastes.