Ryan Glover Biography

Up atop the tallest tree
Sits a giant squirrel monkey.
Whenever a child wanders by
Down the squirrel monkey will fly,
...

He stands on the balls of his feet, wind torn jacket about his shoulders, with pencil and paper gripped tightly in his white knuckled hands.
The smooth, even tracks before him, mounds of dirt piled on both sides, from the flurry of air that thrust him backwards towards the ends of the earth.
His posture bowed forwards in brace, his eye tilted upwards chasing grace, and if he can hold fixed enough he can spy the turn of the earth and empyrean.
He is rooted in place, heels over the threshold of creation, a moveable volume in a quiescent state, but his knees are twined and timorous.
...

At half till noon
on Tuesday morn
in the chapel room
on threaded carpet torn,
...

Lose your tongue, mislay your vocal chords, they are needed no more.
Replace the shape of my eyes, the flare of my nostrils, the corners of my lips,
their expression is no longer warranted.
Watch me bear my heart on my keys. My attire is now bare.
...

You, the whole-hearted, who catch easy breaths
at night, on your side, with fantasy fluttering your eyes.
You, the possessed, the easily taken, easily joined,
with the outer extremities of emotion, so easily adorned.
...