Call this a poem,

 

 

 

this space

 

 

 

 

where my mind

 

 

is slim enough to slip

 

 

 

 

through bars

 

 

between which my brain gets stuck,

 

 

 

 

where my inner

 

 

Fascist and Marxist

 

 

 

 

meet, and my male and my female

 

 

me, lie, roll

 

 

 

 

together and, tumbling through the sky,

 

 

fight, and fuck.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2 thoughts on “Call this a poem,”

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