#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
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…
A girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
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
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
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...
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…
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
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
A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,