The hold-back warning
corns like syrup
a sand in the engine of dogress
A regression of that canine mean
not too mean as to mean that meaning
will bite the band that steeds it
May the idiomatic camo-separated
value become worth less than a
tambourine in heat, a magazine
Bleating at the readers:
heed our morning
this is America
We are drugs and
guns and safety
in numbness
We are fear and
deer and death
by roadway
We are blamed
and shamed
and none of it matters
Our nihilism nicks
the jugular that bore it
as an ironic symbol
Of the vanities and greeds
that browned our greens
and turned our dourness
Into a manic optimism
that hates anything
that does not look like
What we dream
when we dream of our
selves in a convex mirror
Roman Ryan 