Dropped Pages is a series of poems that were originally dropped from my books and chapbooks. I have reclaimed them here.
left out of Her Red Book
On the Day of Silhouettes
Out the train window she sees cut-outs
mountains gulls
Man in rowboat fishing water like
something one can touch but not hold
defiantly
on the still lake she hears
the word “moon” from a child’s lips
and there it is
she practices looking w/out
naming now that love has surprised her
once again
she goes to church and sings
grateful for the roundness
of the choir
she picks this future
a calm fortress against the long hours of drive
ambition
the release tastes like a careless trip
honey
sunsets always remind her of sunsets
they replace each other that way
like the speed of conversation
between black cut-outs
kisses on the neck
preoccupied with the fragile
blood vein and the question of what is real
she stands guard beyond expectation
a kind of cross-check
like a night-light
like a raincoat
ride the train. it will vibrate your bum.
