Stroller, boaster,
where you look
is when we fall:
observer defection
makes subjects
the object of no-more-perfection;
see it ain't slow,
one step makes time
and two rhythm
and a blurry gray walk
sits beside the street;
pause, continue;
calculus season
demands acceleration
and an area
that lives under
the curve between us;
measure, that's where
treasure comes from,
as there must be a pile
and a drawable down
that can up and up and
right;
written is a seated
while read can go
or stay;
and while and by the
way, continuity is
an error
that is waiting for its
balanced sheet
to sleep beneath the sign:
stop,
eight sides,
red,
and a graffiti ego
that takes the wall by stroll.
Roman Ryan 