Finding "Didact" No Option

The sane curve's a wright bro.
Instinct's poin
tless trajectory liquors it up.
                       Across brimstone.
A box car of sevens drives vixens to sixty.

In townships
                 (a town) destined for downfall
whose face is a grid groomed by
an id, by a caul, y'all?
                       For Sale on the lawn.
                       Its noun is a sentence.
Not built by a chapel.
Not built on a cliff of Calvinist reticence.

Sutra-dramas wonder/wander
into golden marginalia of space
clicking gunshy on kneecaps
                       by a seaman. In
the pitch of its hills
lies the crutch of his shadow, prayer brick by
prayer block.
                A synod of kills is the charm
of its clock, drowned to brimming off I-75.

& "didact" no option.
                       Since the past
is the past is the past is the past & no escape
to it.                What is felt is
purchased, an edit or c'mon incarnate as--

"My web page or yours? My Apple computer
or hours?"
                  A dweller in
church is a Dante imposter.
                     A thunder of cinders!
                              & yes, defective.


apocryphaltext Vol. 2, Nos. 2 & 3

Raymond Farr lives in Ocala, FL. His most recent work appears both on line & in print at Bird Dog, Otoliths, Anemone Sidecar, Pinstripe Fedora, little red leaves, Schizotype, Dusie, Cab/Net, & Word / for Word.


a poem by raymond farr