#FreeVerse
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…
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
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
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
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...
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
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
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have