Poetry with Mr. McLeod (II)

This is not a poem; this is a line, and this line contains a title for a poem, namely: “A Poem”

Ian McLeod

Once upon a time
I decided to rhyme.
It was quite fine
to make words mine,
and to turn a phrase
into perfect chrysoprase.
Then all of a sudden,
my friend–who loved muddin’–
came up to me and said,
“This shit’s gone to your head.”
So I decided to retire
and threw my pages on the fire.
But one page I let survive
because five little words–five,
sum up the entirety
of all poetry
if Magritte and Korzybski
always had their way.
“Argumentum ad absurdum!” you say?
Yes it is. Yet I still contend:
This is not a poem.