#FreeVerse
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
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
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
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…
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
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
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
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...
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—