Doctor Pepper Mountainmiller,
brew us up your fear. All those
cataraction compasses, needle-
broke our tears. Fortitude and
elegies regarded us astride;
horses and their thingy pings
with shoes and glues and nines.
Play the card and sit the spade
that's the way with stoops --
corny syrup touches braise
until it boils and goops. Never
give the ending rhyme
solid corded dew, other
wis-down dreams of words
that bite the more they chew.
Candor canto written up
as ticked and ticket sheep--
that's the missive that we stacked
on deep and steep and dark.
Light was furtive when we
stuck our tongues onto the
frozen lamppost: the blast we
can do manufactures another
sordid factory.
Roman Ryan 