Hurdles make words into hoops
who cannot be clear without clipping
an arm or the dregs of whatever drank
last night into that supper stupor
a succor for cooped prepositions
over-using use as the good of the day
and utility as the knife of the moment
where foment effervesces into burbles
air escapes to where it goes: nethering
gerunds sentenced peripatetic books
to wither like weathered fountain mist
and discover dry ways to leave pages
raging in the thunder scorned frightening
again sparing the present the blade
a guillotined moron who went for a haircut
and lost the throaty vocals in whorl whir
spurring courses down
the ten thousandth way
higher and higher forks demanding
knife and spoon remonstrations.
Roman Ryan 