Satan, Oscillate My Metallic Sonatas

By Angela Genusa ​

​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.