Space

HERE:
sits a young woman trying to master an education in
Poetry through art created fighting masculine requirements
inattentive by the now disincentive; the subject deficient in dispersing
muse-worthy thoughts. Questioning why the minutes pass in juxtaposition
closer than the moments spent sitting in vain trying desperately
to find the word POET next to the impotent and perpetual
enjambment of figurative language that plays tug of war with
her mind against her mouth.

ELSEWHERE:
stagnant in his property, depreciated yet south of the boulevard,
he lays in habitual movement of corked energy sucked into
Spanish novellas to which not one word is understood, but makes
his cock’s counterpart happy; this bitch’s happiness is key, not mine.
His Israeli jet dares never to attack, viciously, Guatemala and her vagina.
His Israeli jet dared never to attack, viciously, this poet’s Iranian
mother, his cock’s first counterpart, neither.

HERE:
so, what gives?