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    • zI SHA
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  • Mnemes
  • Papier-mâché
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  • Tea Dance or Folklorico?
  • zI SHA
  • Lady Ljutomer
  • Skua, Aftermath and Cello
  • Peshtigo
  • THE ART OF ROSA KORbin
  • Omilteme Cottontails
  • Violet Twice Golden Light
  • Acrobat In The Waterfall
  • Rosa Nitida
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  • 1/2 O=C
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Kristin Ryling

Lapin Press

Kristin Ryling Lapin PressKristin Ryling Lapin PressKristin Ryling Lapin Press

Lady Ljutomer

Rejiggering, there is a method in the array, a

concord from yolk to buttermilk, we merge by fine

condition, the order of nutmeg and eggnog.


Wave away the steam of coffee, by the Samuel

of ice, though we prefer books in rows, much is kept

of partnership, we too tenor steady.


When incident makes rigamarole of cabal, to the

whereby of ritual we chant, but aphids match

also, as pursers of riddles, within the bib. 


Afore the tidy rows of flax, we press the linens,

hitherto the pride of red maples, is the organization 

of sweet cakes, theft for smiles, share braids.




All the days of Pirouettes, on the ruffles of

St. Vitus’s dance, the tourbillion of light, the sun

in gyratory milling.


White caps in the shafts of Charybdis librate,

for the logan stone, whisks in oscillations pintle,

whirligigs of Ixion’s wheel.


There within we keep the time of teetery-bender,

hearts of soft rataplan drumming, all hope of sweet

jactations, periodic waves.


Then by reins of Morgan, or rival ribbons filly,

we furl from boundary lands, as excite birds fidget, 

grant wishes of unabridged mandrel, thus still of 

earth, sorjoin we addition, the planets.




~ Tao breeze through the Bristol wheat, the red

fife we collate by acre, what marshal we standard

for trim, fresh bread of syntax.


She kisses me and she permits color, even if by 

discord, I offer her tangerine and pink, settlement 

between Auden and gray.


How often she has led me from granite, to applying 

her bandage of sky, she’s breathes for me, when I

am under water, or lilt awash of mist.


In the Dao of lavender, where I took cabal of

scent, there are the carols of fragrance in reverences 

she whispers, darling’s of Hidcote, and of

Thumbelina Leigh.




The implementer is not saltimbanco, but restive

in the ambitious thoughts of the universe,

what joins seed between self and star, if we eft

or if we elm, or center sunflowers, or flock among

the whip-poor-wills.


Rejoice, resound, for we are in the tenacity’s 

of eternal new worlds, we live in preservation’s,

indefatigable the elements imagine, the wide infinite 

of vapor and fish, the science trees that take our

carbon, in exchange for breath. 


There is a beating heart in the magician of

sedulous light, insiders within the dust, replete

with worlds, the odds of us galaxies, in love

by the count of space, the cinnabar is part of

our hand, and atoms scent, the Rubicon’s of 

roses.

                         For ~



Tristram’s starling, samadhi the parched passersby,

like cranes of headdress song, the piercings gold,

command the wherewith heavens.


I saw that rapture had found a seat, a shade below

malocchio shadows, and every swift of espial,

came to balsam myrcia oil.


It was girlish day, for the ladies of olibanum, by

bustle or fans of agalloch, gladly dressed the

scented gloves, that picked the cherries.


There within the feather, said call a lazy rain, to

leave the silver perched for polish, for events 

of coming Wednesday, ~ 




Brief, 

the river’s stance between heart beats,

brief,

the wink discordia on brows of night,

if acedia is sleeping,

in calm consent of waiver.

Meek, 

the banjax ruins, in provinces proceeding,

meek,

the ascendent laurels, when the conquistadors 

have fallen blasé 

every metier of autumn.

Folly,

the existential millennium, in technique of hours,

folly,

our December touch, in covenants of June, 

twice the embrace of summer,

surrey heat, sure pairings victress.




Where by lantern skylight, finds Mnemosyne, it’s 

shadows kinesthetic memories, heritage roses in heirlooms, 

White Lady of Avenel, earth of unbruised soil?


There in the Masan rings of arid Redwood trees, bounty

rains are counted, soft depart from normal towers,

before the cert of seas, became erratic juxtaposition.


I thought to be wishful, a guardian hand of the orca, or 

the free color fish of the corals, suffices God stars have

given to heal faith, still he rests there, wounded.


What of man kind might I celebrate, ~ of bird swallows or 

oriels that vanish sweet veer, watchers who perish for

earth Mary, the Virgin remembering with all felicity, 

fragile beauty, the quiet extant of kind.




Decks of years, tiers of seasons, to meditate

with eyes open or with eyes closed, to become

miniature, climbing Guinevere delphiniums,

what is in the gray brickwork of wool bundled

sight, if aurora lavender silos temple fruit before

me?


± Considering the tongue is not the delicacies 

of mandarin, ascension is not practice, it is the

air, presence is examining the cider, what is 

present pristine and transparent, before I

must remember brownish Johnathan, for apples

clear.


Willows of the fillebeg, emerald of the tea 

gowns and petticoats, the fables of full skirt,

hold the waiting lads, in earthly latitudes and 

roaring 40’s, hearts as the winds waver, what

the soul knows after viewing quivers, truth eternal

was told, when eyes first opened.




I cannot afford to walk through his gates anymore,

if I wish to open my doors, I claim no barrier, 

beyond the thrush of hopes Green.


As separate night from morning, to the Viking

of midnight sun, my sweetheart truth will come,

in the subtle sun at midnight.


The warm heart is by the fire, and the moon the

bright sol remembers, and as the summer stream

glistens, my thoughts are gladden to recall.




There are reasons that I love you,

as I reason the flower,

what is graceful

of the petal, or somnolent 

of purple.

I talisman the rabbits, there my

worship will be gentle,

a barrier against violence,

a quiet spirit that prevails peace,

a fragrance a child remembers

that such scent 

once be real.

The prowess of caring, mentioned

in song, a poem voice singing,

which supples my carol.

An Earth is there also, that has not

known cruelty, and every man made

fear is forgotten,

life tenable for grace, 

and of sturdy ground, often raised.




Watching shader from my windows, butterflies

through gelatin filters, sunlight through the 

custard glass, opaline clouds by way of

barley-pattern.


I dream gauzy showcase sleep, by milk glass

and Fostoria, of the red star’s golden, light

keeper, through the ruby and the cranberry 

glass.


I crimp the Lace glass of the morning table, 

tapering the flint glass from the candles,

sipping flowers and sweet cream, from 

stemware, coralene and Bilbao. 


I will shutter lucid, views whereby the I

slumber, end-of-day glass, to globe the 

moon shade through rhinestone and the

amethyst, crystal gossamers receding.  




There is a cadenza tree, where I watched the

traveling minutes pass by, some with forage

cap, some with glengarry, each with valise, one

in peignoir, that did sleep, brunch coat half open.


Commencing past the Ostrich tree, which once

plucked a lock of fur, Ahe Finn, the otter 

measured the leaf for fate, by the tampering 

rhythms, of it’s hessian boots, spring id is bare!


The rain did not waste polish on French cuff,

or the gusset of the bean, it kept clog to the

hours by field shoe, and the final night of

winter, gave way it’s whites of cummerbund.


I held to preamble the pace of orange veldschoens,

a dart of tobacco, abridging the licorice root,

all trim of coat tail and spatterdashes thinking, 

the wisdom of Windsor tie, or noon by string clock.




It may have been a belittled bell, but it

laughed the blare of gong, ± it might’ve 

been the belie of sighs, but it beige baleful

the triumphant stage of wind instruments.


I might have been the waistband of the

drum, but indulgent thunder was indignant

and should I make Fife of thumb, surely

I was the child, of mired train whistle.


Though inopportune, I inter go away,

my tiptoe of felt pianos, I find the keys 

leaders pluck, in revolutions of the stream,

wires of way Brennan, far above Bach.




Beyond Candia tulips were Cotoneaster cranberries,

here by visual effervescence was the choice, delightful

visa’s between lemon yellow, aubergine and crimson.

I fancied the fruit, where hues found wealth by water.


I hold the habit of walking through showers, for

the dull gray bark reveals tapestries of recessive 

color, rains the tam tam of the artist, beret storms

it’s face of deliberations, raise sable, bright palette.


On chocolate roads, or across the cavil bridges

of stone, I carry fuchsia umbrella, hat brim of

iris x hollandica, I grace forward spillways,

gleamed soils turn black, or the pebbles shy tint, 

raise speckled apparitions, their bashful slumber.




It’s a land of soliloquy, glen of print,

tails and tellings by tuft and turf of rush,

what compline by the cromlech, or 

Celeste the faith of stars. 

Lea of memory, the peat bogs of antiquity, 

gray haired grist the smoke of fires,

weaving through the heart of stories,

last timbers spell of spark, kaleidoscope 

soft sequence sequins, through 

the evening air.

Trollies of sea and wooden ships, 

spill there upon the shore, what our hearts 

of sandcastles wash away forevermore.

Young who keep the songs, that whisper 

other windows, ornaments that do not 

shutter upon our tears.

Irish green will ever come, the endless

age of verdigris, pink heather forward, wilful 

kept by time or mist, that which is Celtic,

love by rune of stone. Resolutions returning

to the spiral, ancients for the swale, 

tides recumbent yet daybreak, soft 

tides for blue aspire.




It was an adult day, the art of books, from 

the cabinets where I remove thought, pizzicato 

lettering on octave sheet of 8 leaves and 16 pages, 

pamphlet stitch and Judson’s dye of glaire and 

oil, King’s yellow, lake rose vermillion.


The hard chair was placed for grand ideal, a 

view written on Cobb paper, half roan binding, 

a walk to soil ends of ground color, ides printed 

in dialects of elaborate bronze, Prussian blue and 

white flake, Iliad’s of my estimations.


Wild onion skins of comb or nonpareil tones, 

pale moss or tossed ochre, in varieties of thinking 

seal. Bosk birches of academia, I settle touch in 

the slip knot of willows, stab hemming, Baskerville 

of Japan, ring reeds of tier gardens.


For captains of the prince work, front covers 

indenting, hand tossed trees rooting wet paper, 

cloth preamble. Leaflets of shallow troughs in minuet 

vellum, blanch stems of irrational Ginkgo, adaptive 

florets, isthmus of verdigris, or cone amber.





They were the children of Corinthian face,

with palatial eyes, blade and belle pre’cieuse, 

pontiffs who spoke with eyelet postures, 

of creamery crimping linens.


It was the pleats of conversation, incumbent 

stories justifying razors edge, a difficult blue 

substance in eyes of cornflower, more so,

azure by calculation.


Zouave infants of infantry compliant, by

armet or curbitiere, every caution caption

the cheek could confess, on existential rung, 

where defused expression hardens.


Not the espadrilles of public Seabees, or

and principal flotilla of tears, young in the

units of sepoy, ember beginners in coal stores

Hun June, tenable cinders in couplets.


For Rolf




Busts of incense wood, manubials of Aloma ivy,

menhir of paper birch, minuets of loose leaf type,

minutes of mention, once natures of Almanach de

Gotha.


Adversaria of gondang wax, the artisans of open

secret, scholium of stone notaries, briefing buried

fractals where the butternuts had been, before

seed platen press, grew silent.


Here the penmen kept, custos rotulorum, her

public command of cliometrician, greed with meet

of mercy, when grave of yard is buried, testamur of

oleander, men who killed the earth’s child, is 

acta in pica of lost memoirs. 




A tiny gust, I grew no taller, joy has

always been the mannerism of lambs,

I worn grey train, that hunt my coat,

the plash only widened, churning oath.


Reticent in the thunder, Ballantine the

minstrel stones of thirst, or boards of

diction, the leaden come pilot, poet strong

resin chatter, songs above my court.


I read well, dim registers unorthodox,

therein the figurehead of ardor, foremost 

misfit, beyond the shot, music came rightly 

weeping, beauty vail, through weaken fist,

for douse of love, will sear burn brighter.




In pine barrens, to be branchless, by the bine 

or in the spinney, capitlums of topiary, we taper 

as rosemary, our cut of chervil, forth of green.


Most cull the weed, I find flower, what was

the origin of difference or autocracy there, genus 

of the ascot pea, or cramp of sea lentils? 


I term to leave my garlands of spirit, bright

haugh for the aftergrass, shaw Mayapples of

displaced spring, with equal beauty, rue or anise.




Ars poetica, the feminine speaking poetcraft,

customs of nouveau roman, pronounced by breasted 

pins of jewelry roses, lyrical movements in stations

thematic prose.


If I took lai legends or blind self crux of sight,

I say of Christ’s or angels, I still will parable her 

in visions, fables twice Voltaire.


Prequel gleam the Tudor heights or Jacobin

stars, in decorous Mestizo of predominant space,

at end her forms, I carry there.


I rehearse daily her amphimacer’s, her heart 

of Pierian Spring, prose telling rhapsodic, motifs

of her principle, in writ of Alcaic  verse.




















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Kristin Ryling - Lapin Press


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