Herds of nerds blurred the semiotic
disequilibrium with spotted duck,
epiphenomenal trucks, extra-evident
like a wish that dishes on the finality
of its poxes. Illness as semaphore, sixth
wave coffee and determinism, fateless
guile heaving with its culturally specific
grief. May the stars become cars and
align with vertigo, speed, accidents.
Spray water on the batch of gigantic,
motionless brigs. Rowing comes easier
than growing, if you're lined up and in
synchronous orbit. Some sounds cannot
be repeated or defeated by the expectation
of an Ohio. The river basin is a gorge of
a fallacy that this shepherd cannot
hear, a fog whistle, a bland lighthouse
whose lucidity cannot argue with the
beacons of leeward intact. Distractions
retract the morning from the dawn. Fawn
over the coverlet and become a gigantic
whig, a partisan of loyal, royal pheasants.
That's a dog thing, a horse thing, a fox
bringing up the fear of the denial of death.
May we rather embrace the guilt-leading
nature of precocity: become what you might
become and achieve the might that you may
or else your shattering will be irreversible.
Roman Ryan 