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.
i like it, who inspires you?
even NYC dreams of NYC – the Bronx dreams of Brooklyn, Manhattan dreams of Queens, Queens dreams of getting out of Queens but has a slice instead…
I like “the lonely play bagpipes in soft November.” It’s a nice image – it might also be why they’re lonely. (smile.)
Loved it.I’m Deeptesh 4m the poetrytrain.Do visit me soon at deepteshpoetry.blogspot.com
it makes me think of restless soul walking the streets, just dreaming away of NYC
to me no work is ever final, even when it gets printed and read by everyone
That’s a very cool poem, lovely use of structure and rhythmic devices to catch the mood and wrapped around the original form and content idea. Very nice.
Thanks, Paul! (and it’s not even one of my coolest ones… haha… this was dropped from the book manuscript, after all)
This could apply to any city – we’re never satisfied with what we have (or the work we do).
I can see this being performed. It sings and dreams, begs and laughs. Nice work.
Thanks, Tumblewords. I love performing my work as well. Hope you enjoyed the book and CD.
There’s a great feel to this, a wandering spirit that can’t be contained!
The NaisaiKu.. Challenge!
lol… yup, that’s me… a wandering spirit that can’t be contained
(LOL) – Richard remarked on both of my favorites:
‘the lonely
play bagpipes in soft November Vancouver’
and
‘studio where restless father poet
dreams of NYC everybody
dreams of NYC even poets
in NYC dream of NYC’
Hi Poetry 666 – I am inspired by most things…
Small occasions, every day angels, natural miracles. I am inspired by little daily things.
As far as poets who inspire me, there are many. Bernadette Mayer, Sharon Dubiago, Frank O’Hara, Renee Gregorio, Rumi…
Richard – I’ve heard more bagpipes since moving to Canada then the previous 35 years of my life. 🙂
Hi Deeptesh, thanks for stopping by.
Lissa – guess that’s one of the beautiful thigns about poetry, it can always be altered for another round.
Stan… that’s an interesting take. I’m trying to recall my mood when I wrote it… not sure, but the entire Her Red Book series was written while traveling back and forth between Seattle and Vancouver when I was dating my husband.