Description

Book Synopsis
Collier Brown’s Scrap Bones reads like a post-pandemic epilogue to T.S. Eliot’s “The Waste Land.” No angels or flying horses here, just panic disorders, email fatigue, and the spiritual dead end of a 23-and-Me test kit. And yet, resilient are the muses in this collection—the bees, the starlings, the dragonflies—skimming over the wastes.

The Sabine Series in Literature

...

from “Orion, Break”
they’re sleeping in their homes,
they’re waking from their beds,
they’re at their desks
and on a call. They’re unimpressed.
That’s not your fault.
Nor your concern. I’m tired
of images, of lines and dots and codes.
When I step into the dark,
I only want the novas
and the nowheres in between,
and if I’m very lucky—
if I’ve beaten all the odds—
just one, naÏve fluoresce
of the insect who
is its own hello/goodbye.

Scrap Bones: Poems

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    £19.76

    Includes FREE delivery

    RRP £21.95 – you save £2.19 (9%)

    Order before 4pm today for delivery by Thu 6 Aug 2026.

    A Paperback / softback by Collier Brown

    3 in stock

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      View other formats and editions of Scrap Bones: Poems by Collier Brown

      Publisher: Texas Review Press
      Publication Date: Publication Date: 29/02/2024
      ISBN13: 9781680033090, 978-1680033090
      ISBN10: 1680033093

      Description

      Book Synopsis
      Collier Brown’s Scrap Bones reads like a post-pandemic epilogue to T.S. Eliot’s “The Waste Land.” No angels or flying horses here, just panic disorders, email fatigue, and the spiritual dead end of a 23-and-Me test kit. And yet, resilient are the muses in this collection—the bees, the starlings, the dragonflies—skimming over the wastes.

      The Sabine Series in Literature

      ...

      from “Orion, Break”
      they’re sleeping in their homes,
      they’re waking from their beds,
      they’re at their desks
      and on a call. They’re unimpressed.
      That’s not your fault.
      Nor your concern. I’m tired
      of images, of lines and dots and codes.
      When I step into the dark,
      I only want the novas
      and the nowheres in between,
      and if I’m very lucky—
      if I’ve beaten all the odds—
      just one, naÏve fluoresce
      of the insect who
      is its own hello/goodbye.

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