It's a forest and trees
thing. The distinction
between dirt and a grain
of hand. There is no
ointment for this brash
eye, hanging down like
lavender vines, as imperfect
as a field guide biologist's
instincts, no cones, a couple
rods, and a disassembled
radio playing our wrong
feet. To dance is to become
a part of the dance. Each
music has its own form,
establishing the cords
that may or may not
run the length of the
Atlantic, on their way
to make a person feel
a part of the entirety's
world. One grain of
salt can be distinguished
in the sea, and when it
has distinguished itself,
place it gently upon a
chocolate chip cookie.
Roman Ryan 