Dropped Pages is a series of poems that were originally dropped from my books or chapbooks. I have reclaimed them here.
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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
concentration
the lonely
play bagpipes in soft November Vancouver
streets past the hash den past the
heroin alley past the Chinese pot
stickers to Commercial Drive hip hop
studio where restless father poet
dreams of NYC everybody
dreams of NYC even poets
in NYC dream of NYC
in the city
formal kisses on the cheek
measure the place born
replace the content
of her mouth’s soul
form a lightning rod
shape a gun barrel
(There are actually more spaces in the poem then appear here. Tabs are a pain in the butt in html.)
catch the poetry train, yo.