elegy for trains

seeing in circles
reading Ben Myers’ Elegy for Trains

1

what is not here is always
here. there is no there
there. it is hard

to plant one green thing.

out there is
America,

seeing in circles.

the city is where I am. we
is that by which I am.
mountains always

wait for nothing.

2

somebody’s grandmother
thought a white horse
is not a horse.

the whiteness of the whale
passes. the whale
remains.

3

my daughter’s eyes
roll at the sound
of Iowa.

she knows
suffering a day there
will suffice for a life in poetry.

around here, we pronounce that Ohio.

4

a just word is
worth a thousand pictures.

nothing always
rights itself,
like a book,

like a river
that eats levees

the way you say modernity
ate its scholars, like
the memory
of water.

5

tadpoles are a city
at your feet.

trains pass.
the poem is nothing.

6

water never leaves the sky.
every real boy lies
in some bloody city.

dry is forgetting how to love
for so long every prophet turns
and runs. every gourd vine withers

while god counts cattle,
waiting for nothing.

7

a poem could be a failure
of stem cells, a failure
we will never

correct. never
finished, it is
abandoned.

8

we are
now, beginnings

everywhere. crows see
the light, get happy.

spirit breathes
on the face
of every body

of water. pray
for rain.

sun, you know,
doesn’t rise at all.

it stands still
while the world
turns, dripping
waves of joy

we take for light.

9

take, read,
this is my body.

10

light catches everything,
contains nothing, a blessing.

reviewed by Steven Schroeder, Chicago

Benjamin Myers. Elegy for Trains. Cheyenne, OK: Village Books Press, 2010. ISBN 978-0-9818680-6-6.

two tables over

these things do matter
for Nathan Brown, after reading Two Tables Over

1

the secret

is painting halfway
between irony
and compassion,
beautifully

lost so locals
with real jobs
who never forget
where they are

will have reason
to love

2

and if you hear a voice

say you’ve gone too far
if you get to religion
pass on

mysteries of love
that made a friend
die twice

empty another museum
of fear with some old story
or other

3

write it in a poem

of Yeatsian architecture
lyrically poignant
posturing

4

leave the house

see who happens to be
next to you

play words
by ear

leave trails of them
for birds still
learning to make love

Steven Schroeder, Chicago

Nathan Brown. Two Tables Over. Cheyenne, OK: Village Books Press, 2008. ISBN 978-0-9791510-9-5.