the burlesque poetess(s)


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poem-a-day week20 “Here agony— In bloomers, bunnies beloved by hatters”

September 13-19, 2010 week20: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7
http://locksmithy.livejournal.com/tag/poem-a-day
http://poetesss.tumblr.com/PAD

135. September 14, 2010 (tues.)

Walk-in appointment with the architect
Of my collapsible midway, a myriad of mumbling
Intoxicating monologues from con-artists

Illustrated scholars in each booth
Twirling their kimono belts suggestively
Narcissus flower prints throbbing with colour

Behind these silk cords muses twirl
i turn like a carousel pony impaled with dreams
For your delectation, to jostle your journal
.

i woke inside a chapter book
The bohemian twenty-something nothing
Year olds, somebody not quite Mrs. Dalloway

In a bouquet-print wrap dress
A paper hostess to vegan viscera
Cheeseless jokes, just waking up

Inside your life while the bday boy
Has a lot of catching up to do
And a ten year reunion to declare not worth it

Sexy Berlin Carnival at Marmorhaus

the rest of the poems li(v)e below!

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134. September 13, 2010 (wk20, mon.)
“squid cells were easier to study”

Let me round out watercolour
Paper presents with rodent teeth
We are red and settled on pebbly

Sea floor of collaborative
Crustaceans finishing your cookies
Choking down dust, emptying white

Wine with gold leotard flashbacks
Roll up the Wilde lace cuffs
Push mourning hood back from brows

“i am the baby regularly put in the corner”

squidly

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135. above-the-cut

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136. September 15, 2010 (wed., more buskin’)

Today we make back the cost
Of this dumpster’d trunk-let
Trinkets, mere shekels

For red badges to take up
This red brick square of sidewalk
Undressed thoroughfare

The theatre doesn’t do valet parking
A man smiles broadly through four songs
But won’t cross the meridian—

i mean bomb scared median— come Join the mass of red ears

+

137. September 16, 2010 (thurs.)

“Here you go, my darlings”
Endearing modifiers, meatballs
Arrive at our table
.

“Onamonapia has an imaginary
‘t’ in there, somewhere”
Listing onamonapias ~ foreplay
“Sordid only sounds

like what it means because you know
what it means!” Oh, backstory
i have an intimate relationship with words
.

No reply when i said
i was looking for help
On how to put out my clove

End a line of a poem
Comparing the cigarette glow to my opal
Inherited fine ticks, bejeweled rituals

Intricately filigreed, neurotic gestures

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138. September 17, 2010 (fri.)
“What a wise guy, right?” / “Notsomuch. i’ve heard wiser/lewder.”

Like an alterna-Punk’d show
Upon leaving costume shoppe
Lovenotes, “my tits are on our site

…somewhere!” Surprise! We’re
Real Live Performance Artists
Get me out of the children’s

Section, no tiny violiny case
Or fuzzy/sewed scars on arm warmers
Are safe, i have the gimmes!

“Don’t be nervous! Why are you shaking?”
Because you’re pumping my hand
Up and down in farewell, monsieur

The magician with one third
Of pre-recorded teasing for conversation
Who teaches bicycle card miracles

Are all in how you colour
Your fingertips, remarks
The glassware at Amazing.net

Looks too fragile for our vices
The employees yelling about lube
Across the store to one another

Usherette-dressed waitresses
On the slanty shanty ship-restaurant
Seat us possible queers in back

With the newborns, but we don’t mind
There are hot pop-overs on the table
We’re on quite the tiny adventure
Gold hoops beneath our feet

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139. September 18, 2010 (sat., TOys, The Sneaky Mister, the Bewitched at Lilypad)

What kind of spoon-wielding
Neurotic is this? Coot with one arm
In jacket sleeve dangling, blocking the grand

Piano, looking to yell at someone
For an elaborate misunderstanding
Surrounded by fallopian packing materials

Uncomfortable behind stained glass
We go outside to busk and breathe
In the new flash photography

Here…tarot cards make love
to other tarot cards. Here agony

In bloomers, bunnies beloved by hatters

We wouldn’t waste time
Pulling white rabbit faces
Out of bowlers

If we couldn’t handle a little metamorphosis
Minions on mini instruments journeying
East from arguments, from abbey to starlight

(italicized quote from Jack Spicer.)

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140. September 19, 2010 (sun., Traniwreck feat. Meff as Lemmy!)

Irresponsible “responsible one”
Sleeps through You guys up? (txt)
Mountain mules without pack blankets
.
The new practice space ~ a concrete bunk bed
Peter Pan’s lair of punk darlings
Find the power strip before you use the loo
.
Post-apocalyptic soup nap imminent
After heavenly New England fish chowder
At the Tavern at the End of the World
.

Heywood Wakefield’s many layers of cold meds
Denim tux cannot protect us from Becca D’Bus:
My sphincter was covered by a thin protective strip!

Mermaid offstage says i look like a princess
In my “Janis Joplin’s opry cloak” look
-ing at Blazes’ dandy knife, enjoying jumpsuit rearview and

Vag-gantic costumes, Meff dealing aces
Breaking drag queens (of) hearts
Scattered across the dance floor, laps waiting
For leather, for a wreck of a ride

. (images from prior traniwrecks, cunt wait to see Justin Moore’s snaps of this partic’ show! will letchoo know when they’s up)

Tags: bdays boston busking friends poem a day shows tiny instruments traniwreck vaudeville shoppe adventures
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