Satan, Oscillate My Metallic Sonatas!
Angela Genusa 11:39pm Aug 6
Satan, Oscillate My Metallic Sonatas! (after Paul Hoover’s The Windows (A War in Tawara))
Amore, Roma, Air an aria: As I Pee, Sir, I See Pisa!
Bar an arab, Bombard a drab mob. Bosnia, pain, sob.
Camus sees sumac; Cain, a maniac.
Did I cite operas are poetic? I did.
Enola Devil lived alone; Eno misses ordered roses, Simone. E. Borgnine drags Dad’s gardening robe.
Flo, gin is a sin. I golf. Food, a lass, salad — oof! Flesh! I saw Mimi wash self.
Gift fig: Gigawatt Ottawa gig.
Help, Max, Enid, in example “H.”
I, lad Dali; I’m, alas, a salami. Is it I? It is I! I did not revert on Didi.
Kodak ad, OK: Kay, a red nude, peeped under a yak.
Lonely Tylenol, Lisa Bonet ate no basil. Lived on decaf, faced no devil.
Mail Liam Maps, DNA, and spam. Meet animals; laminate ‘em.
Nail a tired rotini in it, order Italian!
Oh, no, Don Ho: Oy, oy, a tonsil is not a yo-yo! O.E.D. or rodeo?
“Peanuts’ Legs” is Gels’ Tuna EP; Plan no damn Madonna LP.
Reno loner, Roti de pup editor. Red rum, sir, is murder. “Rum… rum…” I murmur.
Snug all L.A. guns, Sup not on pus, Strap on no parts, Step on no pets, Stab nail at ill Italian bats.
Tarzan raised Desi Arnaz’ rat: Tulsa night life… filth, gin, a slut.
U tu? Viva le te de Tel Aviv.
We name opera, rare poem, anew: X.
Yo! Basil is a boy! Yawn! Madonna Fan? No damn way! Zzzzz, Hannah, Zzzzz.
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The Whole World's a Stage
