#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
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,
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
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…
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.
A girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!
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...
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
