#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
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…
A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
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...
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
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
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”