#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
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...
spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!
A girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!
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.
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
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
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
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…