#FreeVerse
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
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
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
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have