#FreeVerse
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
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
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
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...
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
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…
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
