a poem for today, 7 August 2012
[a letter sorted sonnet of ten sentences and its image]
Our attractions leave the monosexual norm.
It's a long hustle, but it keeps me real busy.
Yes, this is my Saturday night.
All attachment is optimistic.
The suspect was paid in thousands of dollars in cash and tattoos.
I don't have pretty lips and pretty eyes that I can pull her with.
I am my hair.
Do not wash.
I hope to live to see multiplicity of gender cherished at the intersection of biological sex, class, and race.
If you can pull this off while looking fierce in a satin and marabou feather dressing gown, so much the better.
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