#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far
The idea that they were reenacting something which had been staged in the first place bothered her. If she wanted to go on, she’d need to ignore this limp chronology. She assumed he was...
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.
So these are the hills of home. H… nearly subliminal. To see them is… double, hear bad puns delivered wi… An untoward familiarity. Rising from my sleep, the road is…
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
It’s as if we’ve just been turned… in order to learn that the beetle we’ve caught and are now devouring is our elder brother
