Knowledge held my hand too tight
sending bright straight out of light.
Epigrams pretend to shape
all the lines
the rhymes
the cape.
Rounded horns
and windy throws
stuttering
landing snows.
Yes these sentences
will fail
to tell the rail
the proper hold.
Discordant notes
must see themselves
seeming lost
and budging shelves.
Caffeine and a sugar rush
crushing mountain magpie thrush
mixing birds and calling back
all the eyes we know we lack.
Switching from the way we were
to a special sunlit spur
on the asphalt carried wet
underlit and overnet.
Roman Ryan 