Ex Plan At I On (Poetry)

These words are all I have
listed like ingredients
they speak for themselves
need no interpretation —
the language is the same
as it has ever been
words mean whatever
they might seem to mean
depending on those subtle
variations in understanding — shades
of individual perception —
all those vagueries that split
opinions into tiny fractions
so what’s written might be
filleted for scraps of truth
chewed over for examination
or simply swallowed whole
no need of explanation
when it’s understood
a poem is nothing more
and nothing less
than a memo to itself
like an idea saved
for mulling over
kept labelled in a jar.