Spread yourself spin, word dancer.
Your birds murmur whoosh sprinkle
as rain as rain as rain grain.
Dance the dance dancers! Dance the
dance into the dance and that will have
been the dance. Periodically period.
Gel, jellers. Bell, bellers. Fell, fellers.
Tell your tense: your creeps: your crepes,
these tapes will show that taps was glade
made onto the top of a stone that wishes
to be called boulder, bold enough
to shoulder the shoulder of the victim
of his own punishments. End on
Sisyphus, infinite shame players,
dwell in the dance's push and shoosh
and whoosh to the left and center and
edges, righted and then fallen and
sparkling in the eye of the flame
of the confident recurring dance.
Roman Ryan 