#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
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. *
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
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
A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view