"This Poem" by Donald Justice

This poem is not addressed to you.
You may come into it briefly,
But no one will find you here, no one.
You will have changed before the poem will.

Even while you sit there, unmovable,
You have begun to vanish. And it does no matter.
The poem will go on without you.
It has the spurious glamor of certain voids.

It is not sad, really, only empty.
Once perhaps it was sad, no one knows why.
It prefers to remember nothing.
Nostalgias were peeled from it long ago.

Your type of beauty has no place here.
Night is the sky over this poem.
It is too black for stars.
And do not look for any illumination.

You neither can nor should understand what it means.
Listen, it comes with out guitar,
Neither in rags nor any purple fashion.
And there is nothing in it to comfort you.

Close your eyes, yawn. It will be over soon.
You will forge the poem, but not before
It has forgotten you. And it does not matter.
It has been most beautiful in its erasures.

O bleached mirrors! Oceans of the drowned!
Nor is one silence equal to another.
And it does not matter what you think.
This poem is not addressed to you.

I liked this poem because after I was through reading it, I had to sit there and think about what I actually read. The poem makes sense, but there's really no deep meaning to it, and it's not really about anything, which I thought was great. I think it's weird that there's no rhyme scheme in this poem. I tried to count the syllables in the lines but I couldn't find any patterns. I really like this poem, because the author is kind of saying " It doesn't matter what you think about this poem, because it has nothing to do with you". It's hard to read this poem without laughing, and I like poetry like that.