#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
A girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far
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.
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
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
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *