Rough water on the driest side of the hill
where the sun breaks rocks by noon and
jealously decimates the creek to hide it
from the moon. Rough water on the nose
bleed air. Rough water over the casinos,
the planes, the cars. Rough water does not
respond to effort, though life does. Rough
water eddying, briefly, in the tumult mind,
grinding stones neuron by neuron, mixing
geology with brain apologies. Rough water
jamming down the butter world, worth its
weight in experience. Rough water eating
the inexperienced. Rough water asking
giant language banks, how much do these
two words weigh, in terms of gold?
Roman Ryan 