Under which lawbird shall I manage the mockingbird drunken dirge?
I am on the precipice of the artificial interstellar science stricture:
For a simple marmot life.
A spiral LED bulb emanates too many waves per lifetime
Kafka is on the tide line, waiting to get that wave
The walls are covered with purple spiders.
Tapestries are cliché
Baselines scour sidewalks and become basements.
Surplus is the cousin of losing everything.
Motion is an emotion that is a rate of change.
Adjectives connive to make their nouns verb.
A patient sit will spring a sweet walk.
Beside the door, the jamb is ready.
Yellow flowers say: irises sent you.
Hello, thank you, it was a pleasure.
Reverse Poem: written from bottom to top.
Roman Ryan 