look at all these poets trying to win affection
through logic or argument.
‘does he give you X, will he Y for you, can he Z?’
does it matter? her heart didn’t get mushy or pick up
on pumping because he wrote a song or held open so many doors
or fixed eggs in the morning after the initial lay.
it’s tricky the way this intimacy creeps in and out of our lives.
comments and actions culminate into infatuation or disinterest,
(the professor drones on)
the verse wasn’t written across eternity,
but rather in a moment of rapture-romantic;
it was an unraveling of the heart but it was
in an instant. or, a weekend at most. point is
it didn’t take forever to write and the sentiment
sure ain’t gonna hold water for all time.
oh, sure, the lines may always drip gold
and spark a longing in the heart (or loins)
but this is why poetry has more to do with lust than love.
it’s more to do with networks and coins,
than we’d like to admit. don’t just be bold.
that won’t get you anywhere. mold your verses into something
bite-sized, accessible. not everyone has been hit by a lovely anguish
but everyone has gotten a boner, or something similar-ish.
(wet panties, eg)
the point is, ride that wave of passion, hitch your pen
to two people hitched at the hips, grinding it out like
a meteor was about to plow the Earth off the face of the universe.
sex sells, selling is sexy, what sells? sex!
fuck your agent and publisher (literally–
just to avoid confusion) go to the parties
make sure to shake hands with the important men.
grin at the right times, drink the right wines.
touch all the wrists, leave before your welcome ends,
success will follow, and she’ll be back in no time.