The high water mark, by Ken Belford

I like poems that aren’t related to everything 
else, where near things are more related 
      than distant things. Where you get the idea,
 
      the Prof is in the puddle 
          and it’s miles between measures 
                                      known as turning points 
                        or borrowing. 
 
Geography’s descriptive 
      but explanation isn’t possible, even 
                  with theory, which only works if 
 
every place is the same.
                                           For forms are made 
      in the idiographic school of poetry 
            assessments office in Fort Pierce, Florida,
            nowhere else. That’s because 
                                      land values decline with distance, 
 
      or, putting it another way, 
theory can have no geography. That's why
there’s no use hanging on to sunsets.