#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
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—
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
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…
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...
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
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 doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.