: r a y m o n d f a r r :

                      Retinal Shine of Deeper Blue

                                                 I.)

                                                              I thought                           (gecko of I thought)

naught              and I said:                                                         “I saw deeper
                      I said: (I could say                                       bluer than”
                                   I said: (I could say)     nothing I wanted

not
but I can’t                                  -at-poolside-Stein-and-her-poodle (noodle /
                                                                                                      [closed off]
                          brutal)-maiden-mused:

a poem
(a womb)
meanders
on three
legs                                     Then in came the inn keeper to claim identity
                                          not authority as had been alleged by his enemies.

                                                 II.)

                 In retrospect “situation” developed echolalia.

                                                                   Poets practiced modes upon modality

of
(dove)
                                    …a deepened blue on each shelf in the store

                                        a pact (packed up the car once, twice, forever)
                                        of tactile
                                        spurred
                                        linear (tinnier to the ear [hearer] as soap to water

but can’t
make him
drink
think
sink                                 spurred   (textually)
                                        by pathos indifferent to images: a deepened bluer

                                        on every shelf in Publix Market

ordinary
flakes                           according to Suddenly-Stein (minstrel of truth)

                                                                                                               her langua
                                                                                                               ge (h-o-m-m-
                                                                                                               a-g-e) reminds
                                                                                                               me: I writ
                                                                                                               e w/ my e
                                                                                                               yes

                                                 III.)

invariable
in various
rubble
                                                        Life says: a goal is a gaol

                                  of ordinary flakes

                                                                                     to retire from

to puddle
is
too poodle


                                 I think I can write. If Coolidge means) anything I want.

                                                                     But I want I am.

                                              But I want         (is an echo



                                                 IV.)

                              “Naturally, Herr Doctor, I’ve come to fool (pool side once more)

mon ami
________

is my aim                     to become ardent once more

                                                                                                                          & blunt
                                                                                                                          & stunted
                                                                                                                           a runt
                                                                                                                              punted
                                                                                                                           a hunted
                                                                                                                              adjunct

                                      w/ close friends surrounding me.”

                                                                                              My focus diverted,

                             I splayed streaming info like the               gecko remained

                                                        suffered

                           syllabic vertigo of echolalia

                                                                                                    (the echo remained
                                                                                                        in fumbled (fumbling?)
                                                                                                     texts (of Stein’s)
                                                                                                     like a dimmed bulb
                               a metaphor
                               or an orchid?              latent
                                                                  until               the echo remained

                                       dimmed & dimmed                     & “dimmed” remained)

                                                 V.)

religiously
suspiciously             a cockatoo of “cockroach’s” near homonym / homophone nearly

                                      and cockroaches waddled six-legged across beige

walls
stalls falls off
and scampers
free                              walls, needled                         arrows of plot points

needled
needless
                                     a vast span of true doldrums                 photo op on the screen
                                                                                                              porch out back

                                      a quiver    of    sol     to read                            on the screen
                                                                                                               porch out back

in comfort
in dump truck

                                                  to read the echo,        breed be read, toward redder

                                              multiple red                             the voices are plain
                                                                                                         plainer
                                as daylight

                                                                                          here / hear   in Vero Beach

Vero Beach
hero search
                                                                 all flourishing like all over bougainvillea

                                                beside the ovens
                                                          all over                        (echo of beside the
                                                                                          bougainvillea next to
                                                                                                     Eckerd’s Drugstore
                                                                                                 In Druid Hills where
                                                                                                       Magnolia St.
                                                                                                          intersects
                                                                                                     the four lane
                                                                                                  & paladins of the
                                                                                            asterisks in blossom

                                                 VI.)

full-witted
hull-fitted
dull-cipher
dulcimer                                            (Lb / LP: flip the echo of “lip”
                                                                         lipped like a kisser)

                                                VII.)

                                               Federico Garcia Lorca is on sale today!

                                              they’re
there
their                                       his wares are not where’s but a thought is a rose is a fiat

                                              the golden is a turret of SUPER-SUPERMENin fields
                                              by the Gulf Stream waters

                                              of the local National Guard (en gardez!): ensemble

is to tremble
hiss two trombone
his troop assembled
it’s new flame bull

                                             old cars are a turret out of which is written    flamingos

                                            estranged by etchings

                                                                                  a sail of flamenco

                                                                                                        each etching a sail

                                             trimmed             aflap               flap of white canvas out

                                            on Gulf waters            metaphors aflap      (echo of sail /

                                            flamenco of scale / squall of flamingo & dimmed bulb

                                                                                  remained)



                                                VIII.)

                                  & in the middle is the echo



                                                                                     peach skin & luminous perches

                                                                            (purchase?)     &gecko

per chance to dream.



                                                IX.)

                                            Our library’s on computer now.

                                            Four is only glory’s intellect in bed with echolalia:
                                                                                                                            story
                                                                                                                            bored
                                                                                                                            outdoors
                                                                                                                            gory
                                                                                                                            implored
                                             the list continues to continues to continues to
                                             and echo and echo and echo and echo and echo
                                             loops continuous as loops continuous as loops
                                             sloop after sloop      after sloop        after sloop
                                             aberrant in wet manuscript in wet manuscript
                                             never to be read never by reading or as reading    & yet in
                                                                                                                             the Inter-
                                                                                                                             state’s
                                                                                                                             shadow
five
live
give
                                                                                                                              a shamble
                                                                                                                              of I amble

                                                 X.)

                                                                           we vote to loosen
                                                                                     the echo’s
                                                                                            embrace

                                     five I was large
                                     six I was larger than then
                                     seven I was then larger than a crowd
                                     eight I was multiple
                                     nine I contained multiple persons


                                                 XI.)


                                     we voted to loosen the echo of I

                                     and steady

                                     of sure things a mode that’s true

                                     poised upon coquina perches

                                     from St. Augustine

                                     from sane august scenes

                                     through echoes in she / her even and odd





                                                 XII.)

                 The stucco-walled, tract homes so still and pastel as writing supposes.

                 And the echoes (never silent) echo our living with tales.

                 And “mete” is the meat of meeting oblivion head-on in the night.

                 And “echo” has its echo mistaken at first glance.

«± ±»