poem || Raymond Farr

Squirt Squirt Diamond Fleck

Progress is process, an upstate Abstract
Expressionist machine with a kick start, gonad

A channeled process can’t be bought
But brkn up, interrupted

While scans are subcutaneous, a look in
Bald white territory, a pig sd

Steal This Book is written in slang
By Max Ernst, coma, departed logic

e-pic of doped rings, the flu has it awesome, a bear

Rearrangement of what’s Real, Tuscan vibration
Tucson elevation, third floor please

A nail to escape, or hang on to
The story is loose and magnified, Ozogg Key gone

Down, down, writing up all the melted violators
Draw bridge to CANCEL/DELETE, humming

The Boston Celtics are closing the mall
With a squirt squirt squirt, diamond fleck

Of fire wood & seltzer, a joke
Too albino in nature, the risk is a sun burn

All pantomime in the forest of dreams, succumb
Someone says: Too surreal a mouse trap, a fake

But speak, progeny! O! Why won’t you speak?!
O! Poem you are wordless, god on a meat hook!

Haven’t you eyes, a motor, a gizzard?
Are you not daDa, focused camera, a nude on a

Clock face, enduring Time Square, the gambit is folly,
A pussy is sacrosanct, an all leather thong, Thai

As John Paul the Wicked, WWII going boing
Boing, a similar head stone, a mag about

Dali, hoisted like laundry, the eye has its
Poker face, but put on yr nerve endings,

And go, just go, how do you feel about
Trenton in summer, cheese cake, O cellar!

O! star of malignant croissants, Betty Davis
Style, hush of the engines making silence

An option, a line in a poem, same as it
Ever was, same as it ever was, trouble