#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
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
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.
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 girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
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…