#FreeVerse
A girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!
A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
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
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
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
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.
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—