#FreeVerse
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
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. *
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
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
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.
A girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!