#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
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
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
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…
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. *
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far