#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
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
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
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.
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view