#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
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…
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,
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
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...
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
