key-laden ladylet

your burlesque poetess(s)

carved a keyhole here

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59. Must-- noun, pertaining to mustiness.
st. finger is going to wag his peter at

59. June 30, 2010 (zis past wed.)

i go earlier, in green, to my usual ritual cilantro
solitary burrito, patio journal at the only McD's side
franchise blaring Animal Collective, Bjork when

you walk in with as many lipsticks as pens. i take
the resident-sticker parking route less took-en, past
cherry stems, farmer's market to court

-yard and discover (no such thing as coincidences)
my former TA, tan with the lattice-work of organic
infinite metals resting on her sternum. "nervous_system?"

Oh, the deflated professors with leaky beach ball sweater
paunches. Essays of archivist dreams, public constructs
of shared museum must. In the cherry-pit spitting shade

we have a meta-poem-a-day conversation. "i warn you,
you'll be in today's, eventually..." Never know (how far
behind i am) or that today's the day i break conglomerate

guac' habit. Ashamed, sour cream junky goes
to get the better burrito. For less, for more steamed
veggies, for the sake of independently owned
dogwood trees and bones, hipster slabs and gym
fronted vintage dress stores. A good trip to Davis Sq.

week9: 1, 2
archived on poetesss.tumblr: week1 - week2 - week3 - week4 - week5 - week6 - week7 - week8
weekly archives ~
my poem-a-day 'llustrations

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*dance* we are years overdue for a proper playdate number exchange must occur
lovejojo your grateful once-mentor'd thing

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