Starting With Paradox In a Poet's Nightmare

Whose words these are I think I know. His workshop is a nuthouse though; He will not like my chortling sneer That mocks his composition so. If you, dear reader, think it q-ueer To smirk and laugh, then stop and fear! What seems profound when in your mind On paper lands a new career. In this ironic twist entwined, I see my thesis now defined: If erudite, my scorn is fake; If mindless bunk, then well-designed. The logic flows without a break, But I have sanity at stake, And droller dreams before I wake, And droller dreams before I wake. (With apologies to Robert Frost, author of “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.”)