Please introduce me
to your face. I have a nose
for purple. The sun
always sets on my sun
burnt hands. Each fingernail,
as red as the bloody knuckle
beneath. My broken nose
hoses me down, dripping to the desert
the alms that it deserves. Moisture
clusters at the darkest predawn,
defiance, defiance, derisive
defiance. The cynic in me
faces forest, fires trees by image,
by imagination. Why do I red
these greens in my green
apple eye? The needles
are eponymous with
themselves, tautological
tilters scrambling jays from blue
back to sinus purple. A spherical
dream walked with my exposed feet
until mania threated to sleepless my toes;
awake feet tired feet. Please reintroduce me
to your grace. My red and blue nose
paints numbers into an impression
of a world of material spirit.
A fathered world.
Roman Ryan 