#FreeVerse
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
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
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!
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
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
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
