What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…

“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.

spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!

A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *

Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have

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

We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the

If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response

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