Raymond Farr
Apparitional States
3.
I was the poem’s
Crooked bird
I took gravity—
12 seconds
Of irreverence—
Express!
To the sidewalk!
I was voluptuous
To a fault
I was only
The idea
Of someone
In love with his
Own plummeting
The briefest
Of falls
On my
Conscience
I was a weight
In the darkness
I slashed
At the air
My poem
Was an anvil
Was a line
I detested reading
It was pretense
To look
The other way
At this
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3.
I was the poem’s
Crooked bird
I took gravity—
12 seconds
Of irreverence—
Express!
To the sidewalk!
I was voluptuous
To a fault
I was only
The idea
Of someone
In love with his
Own plummeting
The briefest
Of falls
On my
Conscience
I was a weight
In the darkness
I slashed
At the air
My poem
Was an anvil
Was a line
I detested reading
It was pretense
To look
The other way
At this
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