Quite So. But –

On “Introduction to Poetry” by Billy Collins.

Suprematist Composition: White on White, Kazimir Malevich

We watched and felt it, touched it and tasted
Its inked spices: and heard nothing at all.
We shone a dozen lights on it, pasted
It in red scrips on the brain's crazy wall:
Still nothing. We crumpled up the wasted
Pages, and took the poem out for a stroll.
It murmured secrets to the earth and sky
And told us nothing.
The probing mouse it swallowed, and so shocked,
So scorched our fingers, that we lost the trail
Of the light-switch. On skis we would have locked
It in our embrace, but it turned to nail
Our ankles to its waves. It crowed and mocked,
And told us nothing.
Lost, we were scourged for answers, for trim,
Gradable essays in so many words.
We dared not wait upon the poem's whim
And took up the hose.