My instinct was to go far
out to the edges of the reach
above the light of each car
from the center line, preach
failure is not on the tip of a tongue
wagons are crashed by the river
while statements come down like bells that we rung
metaphors smile on a similar shiver
to whom does a meaning
come down from the mount
when including the weaning
a childhood to count
embarrassment bars the continual line
sinking to heights that gravity marks
breaking the verse on the back of a spine
descriptions are cast in the fire by sparks.
Roman Ryan 