Wording Poem by Daniel Y.

The last line WORDS, A POET DOES / NOT MINCE strikes me as an ideal closing to the poem, because the adage, still slightly distorted, shows the poet restoring his control over language which has gone WILD with his full support and participation (I imagine) . We go from the reader in a contorted posture to words contorted way beyond any semantic or grammatical order - they've even lost their spelling. I can tell a lot depends on stanza 2 with the mirror lines THINKING OF ME/THINKING OF YOU and TURNINGCHURNING It strikes me that sense and nonsense are inextricably mixed by that point in the poem and then it gradually disentangles leading to the closing lines in which we can perceive the restoration of order. It's as if someone bellowed, Hey, words aren't supposed to be minced up like meat!