4: Poem is a bright river, clear and deep, flowing over smooth yellow stones
         And is a broad-leafed kite that leads the wind by the hand.

3: Poem can be read backwards and mean the same thing
         And is a lost kite with limited direction from the wind.

2: Poem is not always a poem and pools by dark rocks
         And is a knotted string inappropriate for a kite.

1: Response is a dusty riverbed with little or no stones
         And is an irrelevant idea of holding something up with the sky.

____

There are no philosophical truths, no truisms—only rubrics. Dawn and dusk being the interpoles of languishment. When one mistakes a Great Horned Owl for the sounding of his bird clock, we have a rubric. When one chooses a counter-top cleanser based on the content of its natural orange additive, we have a rubric. When one circumvents the parallax of his/her own tidal ubiquity, we have a rubric. The forest moves in a rubric; the meadow too.