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..:: CONTENTS ::..
   Volume XI, Issue I

..:: POETRY ::..


..:: PROSE ::..

..:: ETC ::..
   Contributor's Notes

..:: ARCHIVES ::..
   Volume I, Issue I
   Volume I, Issue II
   Volume II, Issue I
   Volume II, Issue II
   Volume III, Issue I
   Volume III, Issue II
   Volume IV, Issue I
   Volume IV, Issue II
   Volume V, Issue I
   Volume V, Issue II
   Volume VI, Issue I
   Volume VI, Issue II
   Volume VII, Issue I
   Volume VII, Issue II
   Volume VIII, Issue I
   Volume VIII, Issue II
   Volume IX, Issue I
   Volume IX, Issue II
   Volume X, Issue I
   Volume X, Issue II

 
Poetry


The Lie We Confront
Raymond Farr

 

& by story it is meant—
We are weeping like men

In little girl masks
& knocking out Time's teeth

On a baby grand piano
We dreamed we heard a sensible tale

That we staged it at midnight
That we are always seven minutes

Later than usual
& running behind

& so we pause
& a lightning bolt hits us

& countries not faces
Get hawked by condolences

But all we remember is
A fire caught fire in one little chair

& one was the Bronx
A blue cow, sd someone in church

We are trapped like rats
In the limelight at the Bay House Theater

& a poem, we insist
Must always insist on itself

This is the lie we confront
In the back of our Saab

We never relent though
Or we relent very little!

 

 

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