RACHEL BUSNARDO

Have You Scanned Yr Club Card?

yr a password come knocking

madison paige, sideline copter, enter geo

logical enterprise, USS electric

captain will you command for commander

the page toe-tipping in clicks, enigmatic 

can you command some leather to be legible;

can you summon a sandwich to stand
in the throngs of a narrative?

 

the hive plastic full of beans shushes the echo

 

 

 

 

 

skooma snakecharmer sing me a dance

let’s take down our dress & soak up the silt.

 

yr password, did you write it down? 

dahvikin yr sack holds the sonic 

                                    always hedgehogging an orogeny

                        symphonic eternal sonata

                                    & socks, thigh high & so sigh we all

                        another bottle commander, no frag

                                    for chew, no pin for pull

 

the piss left in this bucket breeds forming beds

& beds of bloom

  

 

 

 

 

impulse litany of itinerary combustion

a combination metamorphic hip hop—

                        beat em up beat em up beat em up

                        pop full of pestilence, insect mimicry

                        presses square, presses square knocking:

breaks chitin

                                   

 

 

be kind, rewind, fast-forward, try again. 

drug deals somewhere near twospoons, buffalo butt

                         

bergvall button slaps more      turtle

turtle word and also asparagus, stein

breaks stew to boil signed points and square

there is meat nestled messy in the vegetables

 

 

don’t call the captain, call him kupa

 

 

 

 

 

if it can be written down, it must unfold

so lonely is the sisterhood of sequoia

owned these colors               a runway

           

unabashed and still, still broken, still quiver               

moon trapped in the sights, iron arrow  

taunting supposed a cartridge still dusty

                         

 

 

 

the dress fits even after all these years

                        I am open, oppen beside me, hoping

                         

                       

crack suddenly

salad, suddenly

ludopoetic

 

if even there’s a way of winning

                       

 

 

 

 

never give yr password to phishers, preachers,

grey men on stoops, actors, mercs,

mech warriors, administrators,

content managers and designers,

heroes or heroines, composers,

dahvikins, commanders, morticians,

bartenders, butchers, salsa dancers,  

yr teachers or yr students,

 

 

 

 

 

never give yr password to religion, to politics, to blood 

                       

 

 

 

 

the word gets a pass, permission to incest

inbred to the letter,

 

hey, ta-boo

sexy lady, yr just a body double dipped & battered

twitter pated & confined, so sing we all. 

 

orogeny leads to subduction; take notes

                        contains spoilers & spoils

                       

I see a bad poem rising

                       

the roots beneath mountains under X

catacombs of wires meant to trigger

the blue ribbon beauties in catacombs

gimmie a gimmick, gimmie more;

gimmie another

dance pants, hot hats in the hamwater

gimmie the password, the command:

 

gimmie gimmie   a yellow merkin

                       

don't accidently attend cory feldman's orgy

the command must be eight characters in total                       

 

rooms built for emergency

 

this is the this and this is it

                       

one more layer and the cake is a wedding

 

so emergency, emerging

           

ecstasy: where do my hands go now?

where do like my hands go now?

 

 

 

 

 

birdo can wear yr princess; what yr birdo wants,

is not in this castle

 

 

spinning over I was told

I wouldn’t have to eat myself sterile

 

don’t wash before eating; don’t watch after

stop clotting things from washing.

 

defined buttons control the tulle machine

 

these waffles are totally unedible

 

sweet Vs dreaming of plasma

 

oh, little honey

 

nutella on toast 

 

just it

 

  

 

 

 

did you forget yr password?

srsly, memory

of the sisyphus

those rocks

change: heat

& pressure

head &

process: presents

a gift

the neighbor

upstairs, a stomper

srsly,

who walks that hard?

paradoxical practice

the way

to sink; sometimes

to write oneself

into the silt

before it is watched

& washed away.

Rachel Busnardo thinks it's weird to talk about herself in the third person. She's never been published in The New Yorker or The Atlantic. One day she'll get a border collie and they'll travel the world together. For now she's teaching creative writing at the University of Colorado Boulder where she is also getting her MFA in poetry.