#FreeVerse
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
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.
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
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...
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…