Haibun for a nagging doubt

I read a poem today by a proper poet with fellowships and residencies to his credit, and it made no sense to me. I am educated in literature and history. I read the classics in several modern languages. Yet the words made no sense, recherchés, self-consciously obscure, and their addition made no message that my highly educated, highly literate mind could untangle.

I always thought poetry should appeal to the emotions, pluck at chords, say something recognisable to the kind of person who would choose to read a poem. Am I wrong, then? Is this what poetry should be, an élitist ego-trip for those with the biggest dictionary? Or is it a failing on my part, my literacy not the right kind, or not finely honed enough to understand the subtleties? Perhaps we are not all endowed with the chords that a poet may pluck to make music.

clouds roll grey

August wind blows

the summer away

even I feel it leave

in my numb human bones