#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
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…
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
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.