#FreeVerse
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!
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...
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the