The poem celebrates itself, wedding the body's cry with the mind's linguistic design; it is a metaphor for the literal human voice transformed into poetic speech. One might imagine that in the beginning was the letter O and its breathful sound.
I looked for a set of casual dishes (microwavable and eventually dishwasherable, but I had no dishwasher at the time) that would go with the other dishes I had acquired for a while.
Changing one's status as an underperson living in an underworld often sounds better than it is in fact since the transition is long and difficult.
He reaches for my hand and runs his finger across my palm. My spine turns into a wet noodle and I grab for his hand.
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