I don't know
if you have to ask
but I'd rather not even
not know
Show me a sandwich
and a soft bed
for my angular bones
and call the sky
whichever leavened red
Birth -- yes
death -- heard of it
forever -- whatever
sins -- I apologize
Congregation -- let us play
guilt -- have you heard
that rivers cannot be
contained by maps?
Every season leads
to a new view
of flurry blue
as banks rupt
and clouds rain --
texts flow in
to my indifferent ocean
adding up to currents
under prevailing winds
blown by the force
of things far less coherent
than nature or spirits or
any other name.
Roman Ryan 