my american sentences
March 20, 2008
Beyond the cherry trees, a wet Bank of America parking lot.
my american sentences
December 22, 2007
Someone’s written “No” all over the elevator walls: No, No, No.
my american sentences
December 20, 2007
Just when I’ve settled into the short days, the days start getting longer.
my american sentences
December 19, 2007
I shall evict my uterus for raising a ruckus inside me.
(Yes, it’s that time of the month. TMI. Deal with it.)
my american sentences
December 18, 2007
Tonight all the leaves skitter across the streets like rodents, so I swerve.
my american sentences
December 17, 2007
Say I’m not the only one who drools on the bathroom floor while flossing.
my american sentences
December 16, 2007
I hold my hands to light as if light could help me understand my hands.
my american sentences
December 15, 2007
(I’m not going on a complete break. I’ve decided to start writing my daily American Sentences again and to share them here. That is all — carry on.)
The speculum inside me cranks me as open as I’ve ever been.
collaborative american sentences
November 22, 2007
Just when you thought I was over writing American Sentences — think again! Glad and I spent a couple of days writing a number of them together.
Our process was to work through e-mail and each take turns completing sentences the other person started. Take a look at what we came up with:
When I said, ‘a wing and a prayer,’ I meant something else entirely.
Opt for the comfortable shoes so that other shoes will feel envy.
In the wrong hands — barren branches, but in the right ones — apple blossoms.
Her hair looked like someone had seriously messed with more than her mind.
Broken legs never stopped anyone from political grandstanding.
Mistletoe is better known for its ability to embarrass.
Eggnog, who came up with such a poor substitute for Baileys and cream?
It was difficult to read him when Babelfish botched the translation.
In the blink of an eye you shed your skin and stand there gleaming at me.
While the radiator knocked and hissed we sang along in b minor.
Like a dog returning to vomit feathers and claws, we seek you out.
The sky had a quilted quality that struggled to embrace nightfall.
I would have written but I stopped to listen to cicadas singing.
Faithless, the birds never consider leaving a forwarding address.
Insects: Too many legs to bother with square-dancing or sack races.
Each time it gets easier to focus on flaws where there aren’t any.
Left to her own devices everything was arranged in odd numbers.
The sound of the morning dove is not at all unlike your leaky heart.
Not a day has gone by that hasn’t ended when I wanted it to.
There’s a moment in every day when letting go is a needful thing.
Bound by nothing but twine it was so much harder to keep promises.
Listen, that sound is not unlike the song of emerging crocuses.
The decorations have gone up again, and yet I long solitude.
my american sentences (rated NC-17)
November 21, 2007
Poetry and I had a spat, but we’ll soon fuck each others’ brains out.
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(Unless, of course, you were to use your butt cheeks to manipulate your keyboard with the copying, distributing, transmitting, adapting and whatnot, but Dana fortunately has only met one person whose butt cheeks are that talented. He could play a major third on a piano using nothing but his ass. She kids you not.).
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