Purposes, for porpoises at play
Are fleeting, momentary missions
Dissolved by the end of the day
Total commitment to a goal
Totally forgettable outcomes
These are the logics
By which I'd rather orient
Maps drawn in chalk
At the outset of storms
Raps unrecorded
Spit to rooms emptied of scorn
A one time migration
A race against time
Math problem hypothesis
Unsolved 'cept by rhyme
Without diving in
Observing the surface
Thoughts onward spin
Wispy gas leakage
Can art be thus purpose?
A mission of "to make"?
I will find out
As other goals seem fake
Roman Ryan 