Progression Poem by Martin Byrne

To slip and slide
In and out with the tide.
That even and harmonious
Typhoon at our back
Pulling us into less despondent shapes
Giving us the gut spark of
Hope and the rain of doubt

Let us not sublime with speed
but melt in the almost cold weather
Dream later of evaporation as summer approaches
It is nice to dream of that gas phase...

Roll over with knowledge lust
And step gingerly into darken trust
Ending with chasms, radius of pie crust
When you take that fall...
Oh god, oh lord, I must