With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—

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…

Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as

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

The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.

A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far

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

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

The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view

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

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

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.

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