Café ivy grows from my eyes to my fingertips
My typewriter dreams are only laptopped by peopled visions
I collect princetons, kin, locusts, ledges
We agglomerate at the Italian machines
And sweetsip the afternoon into being's being
Concatenation! shouts the excellent companion (silently)
We've contracted to the screens and the selves
But we're in this air together, our shakebreaths; our hands will not
Hello is an anachronism, and drink deep to background music modernity
Surreal abstractions sound the iced latte alarm: a luxury fire is about to go out
That's what our consensus has concluded: we traipse as fast as we might
Until our wills yield to the hard metal seats and our desperate nearness wish
Roman Ryan 