#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 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...
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
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.
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
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 jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
