#FreeVerse
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
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
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
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
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
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...
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far