#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
A girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
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...
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
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
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far
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,
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
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.
