#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
A girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
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
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!
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…
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...
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have