Jim Leftwich's poem doesn't tell a story or make a plain statement, so it helps to read it as a collage of sounds and images rather than a message. Odd pairings like "bat horoscope flounder" and "beach azalea jesters" jump between animals, plants, stars and clowns with no obvious link. Yet the words echo each other: "array" and "arrayed" return, and "disarray" closes the poem, so order and disorder seem to be the real subject.
The title, "Not This," suggests refusal, as if the poem is pushing away ordinary, tidy meaning. The speaker's feelings are hard to pin down, but the tone feels playful and slightly uneasy. "Dendrites arrayed" hints at branching nerves or thoughts lining up, while "a halo" and "our disarray" set something almost sacred beside mess. The mood is dreamlike and restless. Rather than explaining anything, the poem invites you to enjoy how language can swerve, scatter and still find patterns.