#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
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 career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far
spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
A girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest