..:: CONTENTS ::..

   Volume IX, Issue I

..:: POETRY ::..

..:: PROSE ::..
..:: OTHER ::..

..:: 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


Not Altogether an Unknown Someone
Raymond Farr


Each day penultimate at
                    The point

The scene was

I only slipped on the cake of soap of the air
                    And drowned in the bathtub of the world.

                            & having schemed the day—

          At or upon the orange dust
                    Of the baseball diamond

         —We existed in utterance

     We painted our poems in black
                Across the green-monster scoreboard
                          Of the sky

                                        As downwind, a radio

     A cycle of something we knew only as

     The commissar's in town, oh, oh!

                 —Read another crazy
                                 Meaning into
                         The hollow membrane of our days

                                               & holding aspect close—
Like a near-sighted girl reading lyrics to her dog

                                   —we existed
     Just visible from the nearby overpass



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