#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
A girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
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...
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.
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
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?”
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response