Mona Van Duyn





Mona Van Duyn

Author profile


born
in Waterloo, Iowa, The United States
May 09, 1921

died
December 02, 2004

gender
female

genre


About this author

Mona Jane Van Duyn was an American poet. She was appointed Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress in 1992.


Average rating: 4.08 · 122 ratings · 10 reviews · 12 distinct works · Similar authors
Selected Poems
3.88 of 5 stars 3.88 avg rating — 16 ratings — published 2002 — 5 editions
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Near Changes
3.38 of 5 stars 3.38 avg rating — 16 ratings — published 1990 — 2 editions
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If It Be Not I: Collected P...
4.0 of 5 stars 4.00 avg rating — 12 ratings — published 1992 — 2 editions
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Firefall
4.67 of 5 stars 4.67 avg rating — 3 ratings — published 1992 — 2 editions
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Letters from a father, and ...
3.75 of 5 stars 3.75 avg rating — 4 ratings — published 1982 — 2 editions
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Merciful Disguises
5.0 of 5 stars 5.00 avg rating — 2 ratings — published 1973 — 2 editions
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A Time of Bees (Contemporar...
4.5 of 5 stars 4.50 avg rating — 2 ratings — published 1964 — 2 editions
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To See, To Take: Poems
5.0 of 5 stars 5.00 avg rating — 1 rating — published 1970
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A Time of Bees
0.0 of 5 stars 0.00 avg rating — 0 ratings — published 1964
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Gods and Mortals: Modern Po...
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4.22 of 5 stars 4.22 avg rating — 40 ratings — published 2001 — 4 editions
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More books by Mona Van Duyn…
“The world's perverse, but it could be worse.”
Mona Van Duyn

“What the Motorcycle Said

Br-r-r-am-m-m, rackerty-am-m, OM, AM:
All-r-r-room, r-r-ram, ala-bas-ter-
Am, the world’s my oyster.

I hate plastic, wear it black and slick,
hate hardhats, wear one on my head,
That’s what the motorcycle said.

Passed phonies in Fords, knockede down billboards, landed
On the other side of The Gap, and Whee,
bypassed history.

When I was born (The Past), baby knew best.
They shook when I bawled, took Freud’s path,
threw away their wrath.

R-r-rackety-am-m. Am. War, rhyme,
soap, meat, marriage, the Phantom Jet
are sh*t, and like that.

Hate pompousness, punishment, patience, am into Love,
hate middle-class moneymakers, live on Dad,
that’s what the motorcycle said.

Br-r-r-am-m-m. It’s Nowsville, man. Passed Oldies, Uglies,
Straighties, Honkies. I’ll never be
mean, tired, or unsexy.

Passed cigarette suckers, souses, mother-fuckers,
losers, went back to Nature and found
how to get VD, stoned.

Passed a cow, too fast to hear her moo, “I rolled
our leaves of grass into one ball.
I am the grassy All.”

Br-r-r-am-m-m, rackety-am-m, OM, Am:
All-gr-r-rin, oooohgah, gl-l-utton-
Am, the world’s my smilebutton.”
Mona Van Duyn