#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way
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
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
A girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
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...
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest