#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
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...
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
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
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view