In the flutter-eyed trance
Of scent moods,
And in the gland of salivation
And sensation:
Like snake-tongued
Understanding of the air around,
The taste of unseen elements
From beyond the earthly realm:
To the hither of the after-ever
And where-ever
Of information in its purest form,
Sensed in electricity
Or a substance
Quite like it.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
distilledvoice 
It’s always nice to read how someone describes poetry, because no two people ever say it the same way.
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Glad you liked. I guess you’re right about that – it’s individual.
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