#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
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 jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
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 girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way