#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse Poem, Prose
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
A girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
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
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
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
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.