Quien Sabe Su Nombre,Ars Poetica

I saw him in my dream Or my dream saw him. Girded in instructions, Sitting opposite as a timed adder. Listening to my glottis spray,enchanting words elating his heart and whipping his ear. Diverse heads held many heads: Head with debt and some deposited death. Sat i with him in closure, Pushing my lips forward for enclouse: 'I'm a poet',and all of that i've said. But was veiled yet to me that he had a news. For so long had i been loquacious, He pushed forth his words: tentatively audacious. And like the purposed wind flew. His product did my brain told me audibly, But when my eyes untrust themselves, My brain seemed mute. He'd said: 'Their is a female poet in hebrew Her name is 'monume?'. I'm i sure i got the name. Even there lies the mistake. Just returned from hoping around the air, And the air refused to bear the burden faithfully. Or you know the name: That poet of strangling fame? Ho me,if thou do, Maybe she's hidden by her variant skill. Or nature pleaded to have her in her bossom. 'Monume?'