And as far as comprehension goes, I find poetry actually has very little mystery compared to anything else. Just this morning at the bus stop, a little electronic sign told me my bus was arriving in two minutes, then one minute, then “arriving,” although the street remained empty. Then it was gone. I’d missed a bus that had never arrived. Not a phrase in The Tennis Court Oath can touch that for sheer befuddlement.
Daniel Handler, ‘Happy, Snappy, Sappy’
This whole (brief) essay is delightful: the man you might know as Lemony Snicket in search of the perfect time and place to read poetry.
(Source: poetryfoundation.org)