#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
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…
A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
A girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
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
spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way