#FreeVerse
You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,
The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view
A girl is running. Don’t tell me “She’s running for her bus.” All that aside!
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
Ventriloquy is the mother tongue. Can you colonize rejection by phrasing your request, “Me want?”
We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the
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
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—
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…
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...
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.