You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever

spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!

The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view

“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?”

There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way

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

We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the

If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response

Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have

A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *

A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far