No thank you, mild poetics.
Your bankrolled public
consumptions by the lungfull.
Strong arms are for sale.
Domestic shoes.
Never worn.
None that.
Where zero nouns
go verbal
my hounds wolf.
Do not language
in the road.
Hanker in the mode
of a night, starless,
filled with bare hands
and green feet.
Step when and where
ankles break.
Space and lime.
Salt and time.
Tequila, warm.
Worm your way
path-wise
across the storm
toward additional storm.
Shout into the whisperdistance.
Portmanteau when a second word
would do
as well as a third.
Take a minute
split it into double money
and then burn that tender hoarse
until your voice choice
clapboards back into
a house coat
a mouse boat
a grouse float
ice cream and doors
and windows and a mean
worsening
dry heat.
Roman Ryan 