#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
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...
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
A girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
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,
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
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!
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—