2 September 2004 | Vol. 4, No. 3
Wake up 5 a.m. & the prairie is raining
white birds. The moon appears. The moon
circles the sky. My mouth is a dead lamp
looking for its light. The river is a tape loop
saying goodbye. The moon is dead. The moon
is dead, is dead. Maybe I am now about to die
the death of endeavor. Maybe I am about to discover
pleasure. Maybe. This is not exactly what I mean
anymore than the sun is the sun. I keep dreaming
about men. It is not sad or I would laugh.
With the mind goes a world, with the heart
goes the weather. What progress after the hawk?
Rabbit, rabbit in the dark of the moon. Dogs dream
a scent, but nothing is quicker
About the author:
Juliet Patterson's poems have appeared in Verse, Conduit, The Journal, DIAGRAM, and other publications. She lives in Minneapolis. Her favorite color is red. You can reach her at .
For further reading:
See the complete list of work by Juliet Patterson at 42opus. Browse the contents of 42opus Vol. 4, No. 3, where "Useless Song" ran on September 2, 2004. List other work with these same labels: poetry.