#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women
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
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
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
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
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…
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
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 jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view