Values and devalues trumpet
to say their keys are the breeze,
winding up the only music.
Definite articles grift to make
the drift their will, get the
to get it, they say, and smile
snowingly. Blizzards, taken
calmly and warmly, will
spring away from the
rested eye. Or they will
freeze the nose, taking
by sending the scent's
tongue against a metal
street sign's stand. To
be serious, to be heard,
to be seeing -- each smells
like the future to the passing
ear. The present's glyph
cannot be read and will not
be written, carrying neither
meaning nor the mean. Kinds
of kindness fail the good test
too. Tubes fill with tears and
can be discarded -- sadness
weighs less than even the
salt. What measure, then?
What pleasure, what treasure?
Caesura, only. Space, guided
by extra time. And even then
and there, something swells at
the touch, should the heartbeat
quicken.
Roman Ryan 