S A N D R A   S I M O N D S
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SIX POEMS

 

 

Knapsack of Ritz Crackers

 

Simonds: you boo-
hoo jew who
steps through train tracks &
looks to a sky of blue tumors,
enters Forest Wayward
in wild cells, whooping cough birds,
wildebeests and the wolf's riding hood gulp.
Where is your wicker basket
with the fresh Washington apples
of his sooty eyes? Don't throw
a fit like sperm 6,743's whipping tail!
Kick around your “plus the pupil”
,inward whoosh, (the better to)
,of tunnel, kick around your minus stones
that stub the toes to real Cunning
and wheeze the lungs with Not Dare You My
Derring-do & when you're through cleave
me from these disinterested third parties.
Granny gather eggs with the
blood cups—sockets—doth you protest—
and in your tra-la-la September not a
crimson dress to tear away
the skinned and
frozen knot you step
through half the throatless hoop.

 

 

 

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