#Americans #LanguagePoetry #Women #FreeVerse
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
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
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
A girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
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.
“must represent the governess for, of course, the creature itsel… could not inspire such terror.” staring at me fixedly, no trace of recognition.
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever
With whom do you leave yourself during reveries? The one making coffee or doing the driving—