#FreeVerse
Card in pew pocket announces, “I am here.” I made only one statement because of a bad winter.
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It’s not that we want to survive, it’s that we’ve been drugged
Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have
If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response
Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as
The very flatness of portraits makes for nostalgia in the connoisseur. Here’s the latest
“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…
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...
The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.
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
spider on the cold expanse of glass, three stories high rests intently and so purely alone. I’m not like that!