I don’t get any of these long poems that Frost wrote.

Aside from the first one. It had depth. Meaning.

None of them rhyme. They’re incredibly easy to follow. But… I don’t get them.

They’re just… about nothing. I mean, they are stories, but they go nowhere. Perfect for mindless banter in the middle of a book to add range to characters.

But as a stand alone poem, it’s weird.

And I like weird. I love weird.

I’m not suggesting that he not have written them. I’m just saying I don’t get it.

Plenty of things I don’t get.