One man's chaos is another man's
cool afternoon breeze.
Sparks may not fly
when the water is chin deep.
Blue's hold on my sky
is unshakeable by principles.
Give me triangles
or give me breath;
geometers take shape
while math took death.
May we suffer together
under pounds and kilos--
I walk to fall
you step to traverse
our gravity
claims us
to mass
to space
to worth.
Measure, yes,
twice and again,
and forget--
the gift of iced
justice, a government
sans leviathan
sans authorship
sans boredom
with a touch of amity
and a pinching calm.
Roman Ryan 