The list goes from side to side
bide to bide, a timeless decide
whose desires have themselves
pinned by number to the tail
of the bonkers induction oil
burning, burning, bulleted
like a series of numbers
with a series of parallel intentions
Drive for the life
that wheels made feel
possible, real, concave
and thus the forgotten question mark
in a second stanza's third line
becomes a directive
instead of a defective
line of questing argumentation
How many paragraphs make a long
poem; how many semicolons make
an intelligence feel grammatical;
how many counts count as counting;
how many accords can go signed or un
until the very notion of propriety legality
summons itself before itself
to strike itself to town
Believe says I believe
to the faithless
as a statement of demise
a death in the face
of the topography of the rational
a ration of irrationality
faithfully holding a steering wheel
shaped like a rectangle
that can only be turned
inside out
Roman Ryan 