Ars poetica The line of a poem sits against white wall drinking coffee and checking its newsfeed. is confident having stamped straight sure across the page even if it looks around - which possible cranes neck up or down can only see crowd nodding lines ordering same (though perhaps soy instead almond) in echo chamber that own stanza. It cannot realise not merely this cafe but metropolis including Maccas next door (and pigeon inhabiting tiny wilderness graffitied alley enclosed dimness parentheses). In fact doesn’t know it today’s poem’s meaning gathered by pigeon who carried instinct wind finally comes to roost spot (probably ostensibly designated free) ruffling mind digesting message crop: seedy raw satisfying.