Your Own Winnebago by Sandra Simonds

There’s a volcano in my Alaska, a Paris in my mesa and the bulldog at the wheel looks at me with her awful eyes and says “Sandra, there’s no time for a vinyasa, so skedaddle,” and in dog paddling to the Eiffel Tower I see the shenanigans of topography, the loop-a-doop shooting stars crushing under… Continue reading Your Own Winnebago by Sandra Simonds