"Trump-speak has always been a radically rough and wrong kind of poetry... his non sequiturs, his use of disjunction, his mangling of syntax..."

"... can make his rallies resemble nightmarish (and much more crowded) versions of poetry readings I’ve attended in which nonlinear language is conceived of as an attack on the smooth functioning of bourgeois political rhetoric. (Those were the days.) Trump campaigned in this pseudo-poetry, and he fails to govern in it, too, using language that intends to inflame or obscure but almost never refers to anything real. Like many poets, he conflates beauty and truth: We’re going to have a beautiful wall. Beautiful (Confederate) statues. Beautiful rallies (despite the virus). He has said that he’s 'automatically attracted to beautiful—I just start kissing them . . .'... Plato warned us against poets. I’m not sure I fully understand his arguments for deporting them from the Republic, but now I’m sobered.... Our guardian in the White House is... just a failed poet like me...."

Writes Ben Lerner in "Trump’s Numbers/What’s compelling about the President’s anti-poetry is how it sounds at once like Wallace Stevens and a bookie" (in The New Yorker).

I encourage you to click through to see the illustration, a tweaked photograph that's an extreme closeup of Trump's mouth. I don't know if the intention was to scream "vagina dentata," but that's what I heard.