#FreeVerse
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
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
A girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
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.
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as