20180404

Raymond Farr


& I Could Only Believe You

That
Winter

The dogs
Seemed

Almost
Human

Coming in
Panting

From the
Yard—

Snowballs
Of white

Breath
Hanging

From the
Double-

Barrel
Shotguns

Of their
Mouths!

That winter
Every room

We entered
Seemed

Strangely
Like a cage

To us
There were

Angels,
I told you,

Clawing at
The windows—

These hard
Annihilating

Angels
Breaking in!

You told me,
Write down

Whatever
I was

Feeling
In a book

That winter,
You sd,

There were
Both nuggets

Of waking
& nuggets

Of dreaming
Buried

In the dogs’
Stainless

Steel bowls
That winter

We read
Necessary

Stranger
We read

The Book of
Whispering in

The Projection
Booth

& our lives
Were

Someone
Else’s lives—

These 2
Blue shadows

Wrapped in
Yellow crime

Scene tape
& carried

Like TNT
Gingerly

Down
20 centuries

Of stairs by
White-gloved

Ontological
Police

That winter,
You sd,

The little red
Snowplow

Of the universe
Would bury us

& that while
We slept

Something
Inside us

Woke
& not even

The dogs,
You sd,

Could hear
Our shadows—

Ghost-like
In the silent

House
At 3 & 4

& 5 AM—
Playing

Burning Down
the House

On the frozen
Flutes

Of our
Skeletons—

A joke,
You sd

& I could
Only

Believe
You



A Second Moment of Elegy

1.
There is
A lark

Pent in
The rafters

Of this
Unending

Dream
We’ve been

Having—
Mask on

& mask off
The lark

Frantic
To escape

This coffin
Of quiet

Yellow house
A feather

In the grave
Of another

Small child
& if the lark

Seeking
A way out

Gives its
Shape to

The agonizing
Sleep of a

Winter
Afternoon

Then the
Careless

Bird song
Of its own

Shadow
Is stifled

Everlastingly
& each room

Of the house
Is empty—

Poignant
& breathless

Because
Of it


2.
There are
Blue trees

Surrounding
Us here

& the memory
Of a half-

Wild boy
Running

Thru them
His throat

White
& cold

& beyond
Them—

The fiction
Of someone

Dragging
A cloud

Across the
Afternoon

Light
& we’re

Walking
So slowly

& not
Indifferently

& the road
Is a desolate

Moment
Of breath—

A second
Moment of

Elegy in
Each

Suffering
Mother

Of an eye
& the people

Remain
Inconsolable

A stricken
Lark

Moves from
Blue tree

To blue
Tree



 
 
previous page     contents     next page
 

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home

Powered by Blogger