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:
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
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,
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;
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
did you forget yr password?
of the sisyphus
upstairs, a stomper
who walks that hard?
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.