#FreeVerse
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
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!
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
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…
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the