#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
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!
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
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
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...
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
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.
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
