We don’t get poems per se, as we would get a math equation or a statistical analysis. Poems aren’t objects of rationality whereby the world makes sense and we produce order out of chaos. Rather a poem is exactly that, chaos, chaos of a sensual hue, one that produces feelings, impulses, a certain residue or movement within your nervous system, a literary bombardment that churns and mixes in order to both destroy and refine your sensations and ability to sense. So when we demand meaning from a poem we are not simply putting the cart before the horse. We are asking the cart to be the horse while pretending to be the road. That imagery itself is a poem but is also an example of the impropriety in demanding meaning from an artistic task that has other intentions.