Lasting value has grease on its hands
after all that cycling maintenance.
Confidence wins the broken game
as long as one does not think
so far ahead as ten.
Eyes lash eyes with flashes,
recognition, change in
cognition, spurred by a couple
dots finding a couple others
engaged in mirroring's
repeated, conceited stack.
And so we come to art;
a face with eyes on it,
a place with tries, honest,
bringer of clarity,
comma storm, pausing to
consider precipices for
what they are and also
what they could be.
Yes, of course science.
Where else would we
get our blues? Purple,
also, is more convenient
tubed than glued to the
bottom of the wine-dark
sea. Idioms and symbols,
struck cymbals, play
as chords roped to the
side of this built and
re-built boat.
Not a thing to follow,
a ring to swallow:
protect it inside yourself,
predict how survival
might best be achieved
alongside those other sweet,
sweaty needs. Big words will
come, assigned as name tags,
to ensure that these antlers
are traced back to stags;
in love and in hope, in fear
and in hatred, in context
and nature, in wisdom's
confusion.
Be married to this music,
a tune that carries not
a self or its opposite,
rather rhythm that
represents wishes of
wishes, thoughts of
thoughts, languages of
languages, and arts of
all of our arts.
Roman Ryan 