Raymond Farr


Apparitional States

2.

Dusk—
& night roaring in

& beyond it—
The teeth of it!

The stinging
Holy ghost

Of yr face!
We were losing

The poem
The scrape of

Loose gravel
Against our shoes

Rattled like a snake
In the stiff air

I wanted you
Broken in two

Pieces once
I wanted to

Habituate
The moment

To its silence
& be done with

Violent
Permutations

& that was
The big in-joke

I was always
Clearing

A path for myself
Tripping

After you
In the darkness

Apparitional States cont'd

 
 
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