#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
A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
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
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
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...
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
