Anchors away. Achoo. Pepto, Petco, palladium.
Ariadne, are you glistening? What did you say
to the Neptune and his toes? Look down, at
the feet, they are listening. Artichoke head,
even more sensitive than heart. Sailboats,
mailbags, haberdashers. Wear the message
like a small mallet, medium discomfort. Glare
into the sun. Who's going to blink? The moon
cannot care. Books care. That's how they got
writs. Put a little wrist into it, gentlemen.
And cut the shit. Your portmanteaus are
oxymorons laced with shrill cocaine. Drug
war my ass. Import/export with a customs
duty. Call it a choice, call it a brand, call it
advertising. The name eats names. Every
species of cannibal. Shame. Shame. Always
and not at all a game. Let the sea swallow
the material past. And may the land recover
some of its curve.
Roman Ryan 