Mr. Plantar, the meta-poet, left the dregs of form to the lee(s) side, surrendered uncinate verse, and bad etymological puns. Mr. Plantar composes meta-poetry – meta-poems are composed of poems.
Mr. Plantar, picks the first two poems for his meta poem, one about a cow’s stomach, and one about emperor Augustus, he's happy that the two poems have a cow-shed, rumen rhyme.
Mr. Plantar’s third poem of the meta-poem says that porcini means little pigs, and as poems are not as fettered as words it trotters through the first, second and final meta-verses in a drift.
Mr. Plantar is uncertain how to garnish his meta-poem. He tastes each potential poem for its flavour. Deliberating the sounder of verse. Finally for seasoning he decides on a saltling delineation of early Polynesians watching their rafted piglets. Yes, Mr. Plantar watches too, and the soil starved porkling on scenting the shore becomes shy and dour, sniffing out the end of his meta-poem.