Responses to reality put the plural
before the pond, spacing time from
relatives, aunt to great aunt; inheritances
expected are inflections inflected. Cohere
greatly to the vulnerable morning; it will
die by noon and there is nothing you can
do by it. You could go west fast, I guess.
Will you best glass? Will you shatter your
mass into a million materials and sun yourself
under the infinite turtles? Will you find your
answer to the question of will? Circles are
Emerson's Whitmanian music, a self that
fishes for fish in the only gullet it can mull.
Roman Ryan 