#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
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
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
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…
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
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...
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
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
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way