Wear that line of sausages like a backpack!
Your limitations are the mass of eucharistic
byproducts; the cup runneth sober when
wine's grape juice refuses to ferment.
Links make a bandolier whose killing
is long over, ground up, and cased,
a robbery whose complicity the hungry
may not afford to consider.
Both sides' isms strive
to make war on the one
so as to become the other.
Transformation is the art
of rivering
as flood make maps
fools and rewrite
topography's history.
Connect back to beginnings;
mirages are oases from the
torpor and torture
that reality will often require.
Roman Ryan 