#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
A girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
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.
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
