Daniela Olszewska (Chicago, USA): from Citizen Jane
JANE refuses to keep things
classy. She swings that hellish
hand basket of hers toandfro
like a dank demonette.
Orphaned and alkalized, we can
only stand her in increments.
And even then, sorely. A bag
of pseudo-genes with scarlet-ish
tail, JANE is treasonably feasible.
It is clear that she suffers
from delusions of personality.
A maladjusted grandeur.
Hands stylishly gunpowdered,
JANE is burgeoning intolerably –
All full on addendum.
All full on according to plan.
..........................
JANE frequently lets loose –
throws operatic tantrums
on the road with our mobile
yellowcake factories.
She splits the genome in half.
A jading of anchors.
She splits the phalanx in thirds.
A real piece of land, mine.
JANE lassoes. JANE ricochets.
She compromises the integrity
of structures. Concretely.
With a little help from
your more radical elements.
.........................
With a face like that.
In a time like this.
JANE sits in a tree.
A fruit-bearing one.
She affixes herself.
Sedulously gemstoned.
And camo-clad, she peels
the skin off her nose.
Spitefully. Thinks to herself
that she is not so much
a people person as she is
a person person.
A serious liability,
covering for a twist
of green and brown
grooved grenade.
.....................
In the midst of dressing up
to go messing up
the magistrate’s new curtains,
JANE takes to the notion
that the inside of her toaster
is miked. She’d consult her pet
genie, but he is miked too.
Wired to heads that can store
more than the traditional three
seconds worth. JANE resolves
to take distance. Thus she takes
haste with ignition and several cans of.
..............................
JANE ducks down.
JANE gooses up.
She pretends to play
dead. Under a dumpster
twenty limbic miles
south of Dodge,
JANE asphyxiates
her codecracker parts.
A need to be forcibly
forgotten: JANE wraps up in
her lucky pilot-like jacket
trimmed in two of the best
animals her god
-father, the Kaliningrad
zookeeper willed her upon
his death bedlam.
......................
JANE is this month’s
designated example.
We love but don’t
like her for it.
Aluminum-banded
and wielding hand
-made hatchets,
we rig JANE’s head up
with proper sedation
helmet. We barbwire
igloos over JANE’s
hexagram-heavy chest.
We siphon off the bad blood.
Because home is where the heart is.
And JANE’s heart is in need
of some serious moving.
Some serious beating clean.
........................
We bombsheltered JANE off.
An overwashed brain.
With two too many.
teeth, JANE cannot
tessellate in red
(in any color)
until she starts calling us
daily just to check in.
Until she starts explaining things
in terms of volts.
In terms of proffering
gracefully.
....................
JANE has come to love echelon.
To appreciate minefield.
JANE archives the –cides.
Atlases the pogroms.
Things being as they are
nowadays. JANE’s advantage
is plaque-able, is trebly Plutonian.
JANE pares the universe down
to a manageable eight.
She is always aiming to please.
Well-trained in good –manship,
she lives in panoptic view.
JANE fulminates, but calmly.
Her heart beats but legibly.
Is not blushing. In thigh high
chambers, JANE is all perfect
timing, ablaze with gametes.
© Daniela Olszewska 2009
classy. She swings that hellish
hand basket of hers toandfro
like a dank demonette.
Orphaned and alkalized, we can
only stand her in increments.
And even then, sorely. A bag
of pseudo-genes with scarlet-ish
tail, JANE is treasonably feasible.
It is clear that she suffers
from delusions of personality.
A maladjusted grandeur.
Hands stylishly gunpowdered,
JANE is burgeoning intolerably –
All full on addendum.
All full on according to plan.
..........................
JANE frequently lets loose –
throws operatic tantrums
on the road with our mobile
yellowcake factories.
She splits the genome in half.
A jading of anchors.
She splits the phalanx in thirds.
A real piece of land, mine.
JANE lassoes. JANE ricochets.
She compromises the integrity
of structures. Concretely.
With a little help from
your more radical elements.
.........................
With a face like that.
In a time like this.
JANE sits in a tree.
A fruit-bearing one.
She affixes herself.
Sedulously gemstoned.
And camo-clad, she peels
the skin off her nose.
Spitefully. Thinks to herself
that she is not so much
a people person as she is
a person person.
A serious liability,
covering for a twist
of green and brown
grooved grenade.
.....................
In the midst of dressing up
to go messing up
the magistrate’s new curtains,
JANE takes to the notion
that the inside of her toaster
is miked. She’d consult her pet
genie, but he is miked too.
Wired to heads that can store
more than the traditional three
seconds worth. JANE resolves
to take distance. Thus she takes
haste with ignition and several cans of.
..............................
JANE ducks down.
JANE gooses up.
She pretends to play
dead. Under a dumpster
twenty limbic miles
south of Dodge,
JANE asphyxiates
her codecracker parts.
A need to be forcibly
forgotten: JANE wraps up in
her lucky pilot-like jacket
trimmed in two of the best
animals her god
-father, the Kaliningrad
zookeeper willed her upon
his death bedlam.
......................
JANE is this month’s
designated example.
We love but don’t
like her for it.
Aluminum-banded
and wielding hand
-made hatchets,
we rig JANE’s head up
with proper sedation
helmet. We barbwire
igloos over JANE’s
hexagram-heavy chest.
We siphon off the bad blood.
Because home is where the heart is.
And JANE’s heart is in need
of some serious moving.
Some serious beating clean.
........................
We bombsheltered JANE off.
An overwashed brain.
With two too many.
teeth, JANE cannot
tessellate in red
(in any color)
until she starts calling us
daily just to check in.
Until she starts explaining things
in terms of volts.
In terms of proffering
gracefully.
....................
JANE has come to love echelon.
To appreciate minefield.
JANE archives the –cides.
Atlases the pogroms.
Things being as they are
nowadays. JANE’s advantage
is plaque-able, is trebly Plutonian.
JANE pares the universe down
to a manageable eight.
She is always aiming to please.
Well-trained in good –manship,
she lives in panoptic view.
JANE fulminates, but calmly.
Her heart beats but legibly.
Is not blushing. In thigh high
chambers, JANE is all perfect
timing, ablaze with gametes.
© Daniela Olszewska 2009
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