Galvanic stems drain poles
of their hold on holes --
there can be blankness
in frankness and
negation without
doubling up negative.
Multiples fly in the face
of abstract language,
staring one word in
its own face guarantees
not a trace of place,
not a quince of since.
May flowering plants
yet yellow in the face
of a gray sun
folded out of itself
the fissile meat
whose explosions reify
from whence this fuse has run.
Positive messages
have freed their electrons
and they know how to forget
the lightning that started
finite fires and thwarted
thunder from following
flashes of faster flight.
Roman Ryan 