When I was eight years old, I stepped into / a snow bank in Pennsylvania and sank / in over my head

...fancy the idea of tapas, Spain an' all.

I put my mouth to it and said hello hello hello.

.....

I was strapped for cache

I would fly drones with hydrochloric acid sprays/ over their squadrons and watch the disfigurement/ begin. I love disfigurement...

Veiled by tenuous clouds and dirty air,

A landscape has the tendency to take on new dimensions when night comes.

You just can’t believe your key / won’t open the front door anymore.

Clayton had a grin like the hand of a beast that stretched as long as her gravel road...

A woman’s hair is her crowning glory, my grandmother always said.

Gasps and shouts, a hand on my arm, sequined gowns and expensive colognes parting before me. And then, there, Raymond’s crumpled form on the hardwood floor of the foyer, like a sleeve torn from a jacket, the stitches frayed and useless.

When last June V.S. Naipaul remarked "women writers are different, they are quite different. I read a piece of writing and within a paragraph or two I know whether it is by a woman or not. I think [it is] unequal to me...My publisher, who was so good as a

Last summer our marriage took a direct hit and crashed into a deep pit with little warning when Millicent met a Facebook man and simply left, taking up with him, presenting him with my space in her life to receive her touch and this thought perpetually gnaws away, making me…

He would lean on his window sill in the evening and watch the whores. They wore gaudy clothes and too much makeup.