the burlesque poetess(s)

poem-a-day week22 “Cheaper workmanship in the doll’s face”

September 27-October 3, 2010 week22: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7
http://locksmithy.livejournal.com/tag/poem-a-day
http://poetesss.tumblr.com/PAD

above-the-cut teaser this week includes my gift-art to Salter Wickert in honour of him finishing his first year of Inkdrips! & because my *other top-choice poem? edrie was already kind enough to pimp the hell out of on the facebook. i have a nice carnie family/pornival.

149. September 30, 2010 (thurs., Ketman A Go Go LP release)

We relive the last time you pulled Pinocchio’s
Achilles tendon, narrated while peeing
Behind a dumpster and then hopped in a getaway car

With darker hair, shinier piercings
On the bad news chaffeur saying “drink this!”
Miller High Life bubbles, the chalkboard

Reads: “I know the ceiling is leaking
in the bathroom, THX” we stand with our arms
Crossed when off stage, gaze at the last inkdrip

Served uke-side up on a platter—
i brown bag profiles in prey-catching lashes
Apostles’ hand gestures, the suckers from octopi eyes

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

146. September 27, 2010 (mon.)

Can today be the day we needn’t oil the hinges— No blood on the floor?

i have to cancel my appointments
To Be Responsible— who can wake up
In this fog, Mexican beer the next morning

i picture myself drowning in complimentary
Corporate coffee if i have to suffer the car
Dearlership bald spots today, mechanics don’t charge you

A cancellation fee— i make two columns
TO DO: Accomplishable VS. Anxious-making…
.

i never expected that kind of band practice after
The afternoon i’d had, trippin’ on yard rabbits
“Heh, we’re a bannnd” leaving cloves on the sill

Sharing sore subjects, lumberjack wine
Coming together like an intricate wreath
Of barbed wire, our rust makes us more valuable

For the squeak, the former sore spots— oxidized scars
The neighbours have taken out their AC’s
Our noise makes music stands spring up in dead stumps
Not like the old house— where blue birds hung
Like icicles from the trees

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147. September 28, 2010 (tues. - Allston Cafe w. Eowyn/meff)
(return of the hot(t)date poem) / Soup for Two

Bring your own nature morte lamp
Watercolour lascivious pears
Only interesting when bit

Sho’! i’ll come next door for Pho
‘n friendship- thanks for being my friend
Sharing the subtlest of secret

Ingredients, hint of poulet in the broth
Thanks for not minding my use
Of plum sauce like ketchup

And all food- merely vehicle for condiments
The waitress’s up-sell feels maternal
Condensed milk intentions appreciated

x

It would be nice to hear “I can’t wait
for you to be here” instead of self-healing
Buzzy cell phone speaker barking

Like we’d already made dinner plans
i’ll bring chocolate mints by 8pm, sweet
Shut up! Classical Music!

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(Ukes mean there’s hope for the future yet)

148. September 29, 2010 (wed.)

i have no relationship prototype
For this sort of thing, the pink twin set
Equestrian Barbie, Ken nightmare

i’m staying in to choose orange jaw lines
For party decor, 9 by 12 inches of watercolour pulp
And OJ stirred with dodo bones, a vodka cran

So good you’d cry! So take the sicky to work
And send the ulcer to typing—
Next time i’ll catch the open mike at the bank
Vault full of ukes and cooling lattes

Freaks watercolour Cynthia von Buhler was kind enough to have me dispaly at her party this weekend. of course i then managed to shatter the frame in my backpack when loading the car. oy.

(notes:) title/last line lifted/altered from emails w. Mr. Craig Robertson

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149. above the cut

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150. October 1, 2010 (fri., Trabants cd listening party @River Gods)

Served sparkling orange soda by elaborate backpiece tattoos

Taking care of framer’s business while drinking
Jack O’Lanterns— small talk like sputtering candles
Under dangling bondage dolls strung out on gaffing tape

The DJ’s make you feel like moon
-ing over your pretty martini glasses
Up until three painting one-eyed Jacks

For medium hat brims— flyering
On a hot windy night really did feel
Like reverse trick or treating

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*the hostess herself was kind enough to pimp this #poemaday/blog-account of mine. gawsh!

151. October 2, 2010 (sat. CvB soiree of awesome in NYC)

Naive enough to rub white ears
Against pink tulle, glittery genital height
‘Sup Empire State Building?

Someone summon’d Mother Ginger’s
Cotton candy creatures to the two person carousel
In bloomers they eat veggie dogs

Under parasols ride the elevator
With authors in floral pants, banjolele
Briefcases shaking Uncle Sam’s

Tail feather, surveying the still life
Of oil spillmaids and the birthday girl siren
Sailor-ferry’d from stripey bed to stage—

The mermaid’s out of the tub
The unbell’d cats chasing rats
Through the endocrine system

Trachea vending machine
Empire SNAFU will change your peripheral
Perspective the rest of your intersecting insect life

Upon reviewing the premises
The tiny white loo seems the best place

To put a mad rabbit’s tush

While Gomez posing in Heffner’s kimono
Sparkles standing atop the toilet lid
And my hem is dampening in the vanity’s sink…
Violin music pours out of the keyhole

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152. October 3, 2010 (Sun., wake at Castle von Buhler, Staten Island, drive home to Boston)

We wake in the barren artist garret
(Gargoyles murmur, “For Sale”)
Estate of purple circular guest rooms

And large slate terraces to air our hungover
Grievances, good grief brows knit
Only meeting up at the CT Cracker Barrel

WIll get us through this drive…
Tiny rocker in a tiny rocker
Waiting for biscuits and grits

Mouth piano/plastic clarinet sounds of triumph
When we toys converge in the children’s
Section of the Country Store