With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—

“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.

Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as

You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever

Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”

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…

We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the

The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view

You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,

There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way

What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…