SANDRA SIMONDS
Bildungsroman Americana
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Gerald's RNA
Cosmos speak
in strange dialect: strum strum
coo-coo roo--chu
chu--my mother's name
Lou,
you're turn
whose idea? crop
rotation,
give me the pills, you fucking
bitch,
They're playing aces in
the
was Bill
corner
ah excuse me
crop rotation
turbulence through the σ of the crop
rotation
airliner coffee--see that
shatter red--in sword-
fish light,
not
That's how
Haywood got here
shared by anyone
the
contorted flags
of paysage collapsed
neurological hands
wrap up it up white cocoons
where I peel bark from
the forest called "through the Mummified
Harbor" and write "of debris / temporary
author /
confiscated apartment"
That's practicing
medicine
and I only
have a license
to
practice medicine
in Nova Scotia
Indiana's RNA
Following
Indy's airplane, red line
from
his Ivy League University
where a
young girl in the front row of his ARCHEOLOGY! classroom wears
a love letter that reads
Dear Indiana,
Speeds up your
metabolism. Makes your life shorter. Makes your heart bong. Tranquilizes you if
you've got the metabolism I have. I have distemper just like cats do, 'cause
that's what we all are, felines. Siamese cat balls. They stand out. I had a
cat, a Manx, still around somewhere. His name is GI Joe: He's black and white.
I had a little goldfish too like a clown. Happy Halloween down.
taped to her forehead
to the Gobi desert takes a certain leap
of what might have been termed "the imagination" by Wordsworth if
he wasn't so busy writing about the
flipped out sky of daffodils.
Well, this is my kind of party; lots of LSD.
When he
gets to Mongolia, a fedora-wearing strumpet, his heartthrob,
gives him a ‘real' rough time.
And, don't you just know
in the
back of your mind that she'll drink him
under the table, throw a fit, and then they'll do it on-set
looking as gorgeous as a few pieces of sequence
on the blue screen as I've said I represent
a yet unnamed quark?
When they're done, you and your date won't even know
what movie
you went to see and then
it's off to stop Adolph Hitler! and
in the bed (begins life story) I'm a
connoisseur, Indiana, a woman
of the world,
(continues life story)
My mother's
name was Bill and coo? St. Valentine's Day is the start of the breedin'
season of the birds. All buzzards can coo. I'd like to see it pronounced
buzzards rightly. They work hard. So do parakeets.
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Beth's
RNA
A litmus test
Century
tourniquets
bright blue omens
baseline
script of vow-
els a cavern of deep
blue vowels poured
into vials brain
to brain it was a can-
teen milky volt- age (all in vain) my
lover, the Hunchback,
no. no. no. no. not syllabics.
try stresses.
[clears her
throat]
A despair
era grid husky
whorish
voices out of the American
grain fields
one ear irradiated
other one eating Oxygen by fish with legs
furry cricket legs pirates
plank
Mask.
They walked from their sea-bottom and sang
dragging their broken legs behind them:
coo-coo-roo strum strum
my marriage is over, the town's
sycamores all uprooted
and the boys are throwing
firecrackers into the tornado
who scoops out main street
Duet for the
Turn of the Century [Piccolo, Trombone]
I rode one evening with Count
Maddalo
I rode one evening with Count Maddallo
to see the workers in the
to
see my lover, the Hunchback
cosmetics factory squeeze
factories
squeezing my hand we rode
barnacles down their
throats
in a covered wagon to the Castle
He had a hiccup
hearse
I am alive! and I ordered the killings
We rode for
hours
of the blue-blooded workers
I was a dying woman who
wanted
"who owns Hearst Castle?"
a glimpse of Hearst Castle
a glimpse of her snow
I rode with the accountant to
see
his chariot of pine needles
the workers of the Vietcong tunnel
system
a spooky piece of photon
What spooky extinguished
breath!
all of your snows devastate me!
Europa dot dot dot Europa 1,233
steps of the fox trot
all your blue-blooded rulers devastate
me!
curses the face and the herbless
What colors, your face, bunker, regiment,
peaks to the castle
look at the photon, Maddalo, in that rococo
he
leaked photons
cocoon, sends a distress signal
from
his liver
for sudden death can affect us
all
of the stagecoach, of history?
my eyes--allies into certain
investigations:
my ally in certain
investigations:
Jerald's
Everything shatters the concept of exhaustion
as if situation--
stepladders,
trap
doors, now a mysterious
bookcase swings back
the very
situation
it started as
spring's
official
bereavement, the nature
of my refrain,
was
my down bringing
a spiraling fur,
or
a tulip wrapped in glassy
cellophane
on the green water?
mummy at Niagra falls!
a riddle's fumbling thumbs or
the evening sparrows' nests
nest quasi homeless
but quasi is where we
diverge
for I outlived the
weakness of my doppelganger
in a fabricated pulse-- Faberge eggs--
how I did
it
I do not know.
In
between
intrinsic value and lust
telescopic drugs, and bent on
ruin the
accordions dirge me
closer to my limits:
character
and refrain, rearrange
the chess game of
seasonality
a little boat's rescue crew,
poor schooling
lice and the sensitive soul
I resolve to
imitate
my manifestations!
Magnificent, Maddalo, the doctor's warm white
excitement greets the traveler. Bombay
cures, the cream inside their torsos.
note the egg
that fits in the middle of this poem.
Poetry is
Hilarious!
Wax peaches in
a pale blue bowl
allow sunny rays to loop into
pale orange flesh and my
homeland is
perfumed with corpse
meat:
staphylococcus on vines hold these
eachotherseeds in the afternoon.
I am too clinical for the gurney,
too church mouse for the
pews
in this age of nautical loams & vroom thru
Tree trunks echo rings in
grapes
coccos--"the world exists!" a sapling
Ballet dancers
remove
their feet
oh to dance to clocks
charm Bavarian Bill said we were
erased as shoots
irradiated weeds
in
our war
wagons westerly
this is the invention
of the wheel
spoke invasion
and spear turned
on the whirl
my infant named me
"musical notes in a
Petri dish"
florescent' s
out ward reach
Eskimo dry animal
intestines
contamination scents
We made
our way across
the Sierras on donkeys
beef jerky, tetanus
Munching on
eww scar tissue
red dust wrist, poetry
snows an hour then
stops caring, is hilarious
carrying an hour?
glass, icicles.
give me back my torch.