ryan bry – 4 poems

the light that you see is going through walls

the green sacs of delighted flora twist musically in the simmer burst
and I see the miracle of birth in her every move
puzzled tongues come near us for a chance to fragment
and the sun hammers every brick into place
we are all bored of folly by now
as we lounge in invasive chairs
what is the structure nearest to the mind?
it must be her, showing off her animal integrity;
once in a dream I dismantled a church
just by going inside her
and the laughter in the flowers
was enough to cause him to shout


succumbing to the idea that you found in shards

as the heavy buildings donate their windows to the night
the stillness of the god inspired lake is bleating gift into my eyes
and from any corner of the house I will accept 12 thousand seashells
as japanese bikini death spins like a memory losing patience
and the hospital has disappeared because of the hospital escort
and when we travel away, away from the light
that is rotating like the cheapest trick in the book
we remember that in a moment there is enough space for anything to happen


every bite gets you closer and further away from something

when you walk into the perfectly lit restaurant
and see that man alone
you are walking into his dream burden
and if you drink away your sickness soup
while kurosawa blows his shamanic load
on 40 million movie watching screens
you will be able to swallow the day like candy
(make sure you do this at nighttime)
and when my eyes turn towards you
with all the girls in my sadness
all you have to do is dangle a frog
eclipsing the harsh impact
of so many incomplete intentions


everything is a sharp object

when the loser plants make heaving breath
at the buried courage of your least crucial escapade
and you are begging for the strange but easy fix
there is a boy whose watch is beating loudly
as he asks a question with compact significance
and seven hundred deadpan angels
glory in the rude simplicity of it all
and I am in the therapist’s office
where I will say something that cannot be drowned out
by the loudest noisemakers that the office building has to offer
that we are living in a story of dead physics gone mad
and the best thing you can do is to synthesize
an anomaly that is perpetually applicable
to approach your infinite recovery
like a waitress dense with innumerable personae
and see this now, while your mouth is shivering
in the might of the vintage
I am in the room where the disheveled cop
who has been verging on vigilance since this began
forgets to turn off his computer
as a mosquito sucks the blood out of a satiated lightbulb


The multi-disciplinary burst of regular transportive consciousness that is RYAN BRY has contributed his attention to a poetry/hybrid book called Information Blossoms released by Expat Press, has involved himself in the art punk band called Penis Grenade, and has stared into the breath of many flowers. He has books written that are waiting public contact and big dreams to impact the art world. You may find him being the most energetic one at the asian restaurant. Please reach infinity on his behalf, if you are moved to include him there. Thank you for interacting with his creations, your perspective is what gives new life to this world.


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