I saw concrete today and it was a concrete totality, the total sidewalk of the entirety of spacetime. This block between the street and the building, where I sat, was a whirling static dervish, a solar systemic explanation, a chaos law rubbing hypotheses with every elbow within a thousand light-years. I may one day stand on the shoulders of concrete. Not today. Today I sat and sat and ran and ran. My hat was tipped and my pen was wan. Little flowers, tiny daffodils sprang to life on the pages I discoursed. And I wrote this little memoir, whose confused tenses are homages to the heavy supportive greyness between the cracks.
Roman Ryan 