You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever

Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”

What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…

If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response

You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,

So these are the hills of home. H… nearly subliminal. To see them is… double, hear bad puns delivered wi… An untoward familiarity. Rising from my sleep, the road is…

spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!

“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.

There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way

We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the

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

Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have