The nonsense of
Music is the happiness
Of the body
 
Is the fugue state
Of language
     
       I write this in cursive
All over the page
            Then set it on fire
 
It writhes & contorts
      
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Don’t think of this
As the point
                     At which you
      Separate
From the poem


Raymond Farr