#FreeVerse
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
A girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!
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...
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
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
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
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…
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest