#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
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…
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
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
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
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
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have