fatigues. apparently impressed. it ain t worth the bus fair half the time. patrice shrubbed. if a sister has a plate of ribs, there s no way to held her attention. ben and i laughed. i m serious. tickled to his response. i am up there working my ass off and they are sitting down there with their press on nails. tough crowd. they say they like the mens, he drew out the last. but they don t like the mens like the mens. they don t tip as good either. he came to the bed until we came his naked book ends. he laid there for a while. be well my brothers. he said at the door. [applause] good even and welcome. jack hirschman. he has been a poet in san francisco from 2006. his powerful voice set the tone, his latest book, all that s left . my voice is a little untuned. very simply so they are not any question of anxiety or worry. on march 14th, i decided to take an operation on my carotted artery and therefore. i don t want to go out by a stroke. i would rather go out another way. t
that s an orchid. it keeps coming back. one with of those extra touches that mean a lot. he stared down at this offering. it don t look right somehow. i know. especially with a condom on it. he cleaned up at the sink. he started gathering up his clothes. hang with us for a while. busy day tomorrow. my other job, bacheloret party. i strip for private parties. that s what this is for. he was stepping into his fatigues. apparently impressed. it ain t worth the bus fair half the time. patrice shrubbed. if a sister has a plate of ribs, there s no way to held her attention. ben and i laughed. i m serious. tickled to his response. i am up there working my ass off and they are sitting down there with their press on nails. tough crowd. they say they like the mens, he drew out the last. but they don t like the mens like the mens. they don t tip as good either. he came to the bed until we came his naked book ends. he laid there for a while. be well my brothers. he said at the door. [a
head if it wasn t attached. this was my mother. i wondered if her death would release me or if i was doomed to norman bates territory. he will be here in five minutes. half an hour later, after i squeezed. we were awkward as wall flowers. the lamp was already blazing with intensity. my growing hard on he seemed amenable. he got cold feet? may be he lost interest. ben shrugged. who knows. i would be with us in the second. i am serious. don t you feel abandoned. it s a three way honey, i don t think two people can feel abandoned. he might be late. i looked at the clock again. 25 minutes. only hustlers can get away with that. he s not a hustler? ben turned and looked at me. you think i bought us a hustler? how pathettic tic do you think we are? i sort of felt like he targeted us. i didn t get that sense. may be i m wrong. ben smiled. you are disappointed. no , i said, no just annoyed. he pulled down the waist band. i don t need a mercy suck. he looked up. mercy suck. whateve
treasures of the unstable. secrets of the heavy enchantment and the never ending gathering at the lips of the kiss of poem. now, [applause]. now, i understand them causing an enormous amount of anguish of my voice. i brought my girlfriend. she is going to read 3 poems to you so you get another dimention of my voice. please welcome, agnes ford the house of the setting sun. the comrade again and the poorist way wave you. to the red flag. i put my mount to your misery new orleans. here, war lies piles so high. this floating prison of a cementary cries of range. this delta lies on its side. rows and rows upon it s own government and crushed. summertime is over and the living is dead. and around midnight all hopes are looted. no one will ever come clean of the katrina of the new orleans and the stinking house of the setting sun. but it s the black and the blue of the loving on the shoes, let alone a dime or water, america, you are always scotched earth in our mouth. always a
secrets of the heavy enchantment and the never ending gathering at the lips of the kiss of poem. now, [applause]. now, i understand them causing an enormous amount of anguish of my voice. i brought my girlfriend. she is going to read 3 poems to you so you get another dimention of my voice. please welcome, agnes ford the house of the setting sun. the comrade again and the poorist way wave you. to the red flag. i put my mount to your misery new orleans. here, war lies piles so high. this floating prison of a cementary cries of range. this delta lies on its side. rows and rows upon it s own government and crushed. summertime is over and the living is dead. and around midnight all hopes are looted. no one will ever come clean of the katrina of the new orleans and the stinking house of the setting sun. but it s the black and the blue of the loving on the shoes, let alone a dime or water, america, you are always scotched earth in our mouth. always a rain of disaster of stream