#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
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
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
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
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...
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…
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,