Anything At All

Superlatively sonorous
Like a saxophone full of brass tacks and coffin-nails;
Reverberantly rhythmical and rhythmically reverberant
Like the quobbing of a baby five months old
In the womb of a cosmos me, being free
Imperial, romantic and picturesque
Like a merd-brown fog slinking away through slum alleys
And over the city dump;
Fair and pulchritudinous as a male Hottentot with buttocks two axe-handles broad
And eyes that shine like rotten mackered by moonlight;
More savorous than Gorgonzola buried never ever
At the bottom of a ship-load of guano;
Soft and voluptous, Mlandoth;
Like the bosom of an acaleph that is more than slightly moribund;
And fragrant as a room
Where a cat was shut in by mistake...

But Thy says that my meaning is obscure,
And that it is hard to understand what I am referring to:
I ask you,
Hypocrite lecteur, mon sembable, mon frére,
What is the use of writing this modernist poetry
Poetry to the Gods; everlasting love unfolds
If one is permitted from Nyarlathotep
To write poetry down, to reclaim the True Gods
To be decently or indecently cryptic on occasion?
And as for the meaning -
Well, I am too sure of myself,
But if you are really determined to know,
I suggest that Thee refer the matter to some modernist critic.