Dropped Pages: On the Night of the Angelic Ellipse

Dropped Pages is a series of poems that were originally dropped from my books and chapbooks. I have reclaimed them here. Dropped from Her Red Book On the Night of the Angelic Ellipse She confuses her back porch for something wayward circles the peeling paint and rusty cans like wrinkles in a plan The white of her new uniform makes her smile while looking into classmates eyes opening their chests fire escapes overcomes their beautiful round faces The Korean instructor places his hand over her heart and when he moves away     she still feels presence     whispering in a halo She swears there are angels in the room when the lights are down    eyes closed she senses     a pressure from across the room and a voice counts to ten… At home in post-yoga trance a friend...

Dropped Pages – Whale Calls

Late for the train. Let’s blame it on the time change, shall we? This was a poem dropped from Every Day Angels and Other Near Death Experiences. whale calls clouds in two separate directions      move overhead skink on rock, copper head world a smooth glass the largeness      of your palm on my ribs I was going to sleep before in the jungle your smile I couldn’t help but love that every step gentle      the way it should be each stop equal to the last or next balancing at the base or edge of something I understand you hanakapai beach milky way fired from pink you take pictures of a young couple celebrating by the shore           like...

Dropped Pages – On the Night She Left Her Form

Dropped Pages is a series of poems that were originally dropped from my books or chapbooks. I have reclaimed them here. ~ ~ ~ This poem was dropped from Her Red Book. I’ve been tweaking it for years and have never been completely happy with it. Who was it that said perfection is the enemy of done? On the Night She Left Her Form her form is an extension of content so these spaces     the places she blows      (heart beat)     taps her foot these things are little character assassinations she is     content to watch the parade go by marching band step      arpeggio a graceful dive     speak hours of...

Dropped Pages: When I Lived in Egypt

Dropped Pages is a series of poems that were originally dropped from my books or chapbooks. I have reclaimed them here. ~ ~ ~ I wanted to find an older poem, something dropped from my first book, Traffic. I found this funny little poem in the rubble. I think it’s at least 15 years old. It was written as a “mistranslation” of Egyptian Hieroglyphs. It’s odd how it suddenly shifts into another poem… I wish I had the original hieroglyphs. You can mistranslate of any piece of foreign writing (as long as you don’t actually know the language, then you get stuck in translation). Russian, Greek, and Egyptian are fun to work with. When I Lived in Egypt I saw you down at the baths toe cold stare reptile eyes hollow lips You had a rose...

Dropped Pages – No One Home

Dropped Pages is a series of poems that were originally dropped from my books or chapbooks. I have reclaimed them here. This poem was dropped from Everyday Angels and Other Near Death Experiences. no one home among the letters one pressed daisy a sweet tattoo like crayon marks on the wall everyone has witnessed at least one miracle the cat came home with me after the divorce, as did the piano even if you never write back even if you think of me as a sliver I love my love it is what I have when your heart is missing the...

Monday Poetry Train – Dropped Pages – August in America

Dropped Pages is a series of poems that were originally dropped from my books and chapbooks. I have reclaimed them here. This poem was dropped from Everyday Angels and Other Near Death Experiences. I will mail a copy of the book to the first person who can tell me what famous affair had I just learned about (had just been confessed to the public) when I wrote this poem. August in America were you lonely was the music crisp was her skin soft and welcoming curves of an angel             falling like a friend did you close your eyes slow down a moment no where to go             no sin no voices          no death did you hold her in that end of time forgetting          forgotten           and full is there space for tantra in the new millennium is dancing      far...