Raymond Farr

My Feet Are Sugar to Wandering Boys

& so I’m not wearing shoes
I’m having some trouble moving some files

& I’m all over the highway simply looking
& it’s like I’m walking underwater

& I can’t hear you banging yr small hammer
At sunset the boardwalk is empty

& it’s like my infrared thoughts are
Copulating a document into existence

& it scares me & a sequence begins: Tickle Me Elmo—
A thousand innuendoes west of Las Vegas

& winter’s a lion roaring in the sheer drop of noise on a highway
& my queer monopoly money is folded into wings

Into LSD typos, into the little red weeds of the unreal city
Of the smaller denominations

& the sky is a corn field ravaged by goldfinch
& not a sick garden burdened with stiff goldenrod

& blocking my path to enlightenment
You walk away with the bath water

There is lumpy vomit all
Over my bell bottoms

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