What I write, the words, and their images and rhythms,
serve as records of ‘me as subject’ — my perceptions
that a psychologist can analyse, as can algorithms,
to examine the feints and parries and deceptions
in my verse and worse to show personality
and emotional functioning if any. There I go.
With a Rorschach here, and a decision tree over there
they’re no limits to what psychology claims to show.