Tag Archives: Raymond Farr

Unless It Is Beauty or Death I Remark

      We are In the city & headed… We don’t Know where Just to see What’s what & check out A little Dark Side Of the Moon On vinyl       & “Hey,” Says the Record store Outlet guy— The image Of a … Continue reading

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This Being Late Spring in Sonora

We imagine him Walking to his car— A man seeking just The right music To drive away to             & how this Tells us everything About him             Everything But how the soft Baby voice of his Absence & the motel He … Continue reading

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The Artist like a Gleam

For Cy Twombly       It’s the Atrocity of Finding out       It’s these Notions of Other versions          These Necessary Lines in & Of pictorial Diminutions Greeting us Fending us off This glass Standing for Glass only       It’s this Moment Notched into The … Continue reading

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A Fiction Concerning the Fate of Some Grey Birds

      A small boy writes his first name in the snow & gets lost in the dusk in the details the only game being the disappearing man game— shades of his one true identity standing off by himself his small lyrical … Continue reading

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An Opiate’s Flowering Sadness

In her garden Stones are Mottled dogs— A bone pile Of lost epics       & spring A punch line Of Appearing & Disappearing Ears In the grass— The earth has An opiate’s Flowering sadness       & the sun— By day a Yellow … Continue reading

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& So the Poetry of Arrival Is Being Rewritten

The poem that occurs today should occur against history —Tan Lin             & on this, The most familiar Of streets, a row of lit-up Windows is a grave I must visit His or her face falling away In peels like petals … Continue reading

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The Dead Are Like Upended Houses

There is Traffic At dusk & we are Rushed out Of buildings We are Standing In line We are Waiting For our Faces To return To normal— The eyes Of a thousand Befuddled Pilgrims Still shifting In horror The air … Continue reading

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St. Augustine: The Ocean Blue & Teeming But Sad

Time was only our notion of something standing completely still. & like two halves of the same actor you sd, Fuck Ponce de León! & I sd, & fuck his fountain of youth! & picked the dirty love notes you’d … Continue reading

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Mad Acts to Stave Off Madness

& shaking out our hair On a street looking westward The afternoon is a goat Skittering across the world’s broken silences No recalcitrant obnoxious little man on the cold stairs Telling us we’ve got 42 minutes to shave dusk From … Continue reading

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Not Enough Fruit on the Bottom

We are the sleeping fragments of his sky, Wind giving presence to fragments. —Ted Berrigan, The Sonnets The night we disguised Ted Berrigan’s ghost As this empty orchestra That walked on our tongues We were causing a ruckus             You laughed … Continue reading

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A Jangle of Transcendent Bones

The universe is just a cluster of dead white flakes in a story by Solzhenitsyn. & the wolf of yr old life is really only a ghost of someone trapped in yr head. He tells you how dragging the freezing … Continue reading

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A Year of Harsh Laughter

         What is This old movie About? You keep Watching it alone— The dark side Of a wall & me handing you A camera! You knew death— His blue hands! His paranoid children Growing paranoid hair! Nothing but winter, you sd, … Continue reading

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The Words Make a Sieve of Our Eyes

1. I am whispering to a shallow photo & what we have is a shared hallucination Of the same small life— A cardboard cut-out of someone like me! & because the hollowness we experience Is discrete in its fingering—we are … Continue reading

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Love (Huh!) Like Sand in My Shoes!

1. & sans the tilting clocks In the terrible hot seaside afternoon We pick up Picasso fishing The one false move an artist can make & nothing about us surprises him Guernica, he moans— All seven sides of us visible … Continue reading

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Traipsing a Bend in the Banjo Strings

The same faces, the owl Hooked on what the eyes capture & cannot hold— A gaggle of yellow feet traipsing A bend in the banjo strings The religious whiskey of our loneliness Dripping from Tweety Bird lawn ornaments The local … Continue reading

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Who Isn’t in Love with Itinerant Emotions?

I was some kind Of a pale cloud Pondering the value Of absolute transparency & you were a sidewalk & so I snowed on you It’s ok with me, you sd Your head torn off By the hurtling sounds— Howls … Continue reading

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& Other Passages from Paradise Lost

Despite a hint of diseased feet Our voices were a modulated blackness Clustered against What we thought what we felt was Denver’s hallucinated sky & so Dante entered a womb in cobalt winter & died like an animal still inside … Continue reading

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Not Enough Fruit on the Bottom

I was causing a ruckus Reading Ted Berrigan’s The Sonnets To a loud raucous group Peach Yoplait Leaked from each page There was not enough Fruit on the bottom & our fingers were sticky Worms fighting death       I was just … Continue reading

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In Each Emotional Blossom

1.                         Writing a poem, you sd Should be like speaking yr own name To a despot in the ghetto of a beautiful nightmare                                     Or like bathing in the dark With bloody pieces of someone you love The grass growing up … Continue reading

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Small Boats Killing Time in a Room

You have to be lost To find a place that can’t be found —from Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End I’m going to throw The most magnificent garden party At my house in Pigeon Cove & not face death Any … Continue reading

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Some of Us Were Cherubim

It’s weird In this funhouse Where strange Little Billy says— Time is a dance Making everyone brittle He says— The spider in our pockets… The girl hawking primacy… Nothing but Fallout! Nothing but dust! He says— Life is someone we … Continue reading

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A Sentence is a Red Balloon

The handsome vase on the piano The Elysium of the mindless hours, sd Joan They’re almost like a David Bowie finger up This perfect yellow river Our teeth pooling in the valley of the dead auriferous Rats without teeth & … Continue reading

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The Question is Protocol

I am sending you an alternative to the way things move It will help us speak the dirty German words fluently tonight Our blue faces must become the art of a dead moth clinging to The bone-white white noise of … Continue reading

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We’ve Earned Ourselves Extinction

Making time out of casserole evenings something reverberates in the sloped city where a room is nothing our tongues can’t falsely inhabit. A poem lies flat on the bare floor of the room in a way we find “organic” & … Continue reading

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Exploiting the Gaps in Our Thinking

The purple trees In our neighborhood Are acting indifferent To the actual bowling alley & where the man With beef fists Is always stone A hard man in a dark smile Sleeps by the landfill & while the poet’s description … Continue reading

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