#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
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…
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
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.
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!
A girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!