#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
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...
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
A merchant is probing for us with his chintz curtain effect. *
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!
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!
What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…
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?”
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
There were distinctive dips and shivers in the various foliage, syncopated, almost cadenced in the way