By Bus to Fresno by Philip Levine I wakened at a filling station outside of Wasco to see the light breaking over the Sierras. The boy next to me asked were we there yet. He said it first in Spanish so perfect I smiled and said no. When he asked again in perfect English IContinue reading “By Bus to Fresno by Philip Levine”
Author Archives: poetryandplaces4
Highway 58 Spring by Mark A. Fisher
Highway 58 Springby Mark A. Fisher driving east of Bakersfieldthe scent of oranges-yet-to-comefills the almost clean airthe moon not yet risen from behindthose worn down mountainsnot yet green– not yet smeared with wildflowersstill weeks awaythough the dream of themdrifts through the hillslike a tule fog Previously published in Mojave River Review Fall/Winter 2018 PHOTO: RollingContinue reading “Highway 58 Spring by Mark A. Fisher”
The Grand Silos of the Sacramento by Lawson Fusao Inada
The Grand Silos of the Sacramento by Lawson Fusao Inada From a distance, at night, they seem to be industries—all lit up but not on the map; or, in this scientific age, they could be installations for launching rocket ships— so solid, and with such security, are they. . . Ah, but up close, byContinue reading “The Grand Silos of the Sacramento by Lawson Fusao Inada”
Circumambulation of Mt. Tamalpais by Andrew Hoyem
Circumambulation of Mt. Tamalpaisby Andrew Hoyem Those paths on the mountainside which neither ascend nor descendbut proceed at a level, are overgrown from disuseby human beings if ever they wentalong these routes. Animals and other spirits who do not disturb the foliage overheadwalk through the foothills, past the mountain,without observing its heights orthe surrounding depths.Continue reading “Circumambulation of Mt. Tamalpais by Andrew Hoyem”
North of Santa Monica by Carter Revard
North of Santa Monica by Carter Revard It’s midnight in a drizzling fog on Sunset Avenue and we are walking through the scent of orange blossoms and past a white camellia blown down or flung by someone onto rainblack asphalt waiting for the gray Mercedes sedan to run over and smash its petals and leaveContinue reading “North of Santa Monica by Carter Revard”
Arboretum by Don Kingfisher Campbell
Arboretumby Don Kingfisher Campbell As you enter pea tail eyes stare at you A bush of red firecrackers seems to explode Are those tall thin “candles” speakers from The Time Machine film Yellow microdresses pirouette from a tree Spider egg sacks become burst popcorn kernels Magenta bottle brushes grow outward in all directions Here’s somethingContinue reading “Arboretum by Don Kingfisher Campbell”
James Sutherland-Smith, A Snail in Istanbul
A Snail in Istanbulby James Sutherland-Smith The sultan of moisture creepsOn a flagstone shadowed by nettles.He carries his turban on his backAnd shows his tentacles, a scholarBareheaded out of the mosque.No doubt his hidden mouth is primThough his tongue, rough with hungerNot prayer, will rasp on greenery:One foot, one lung, one kidney,One gonad, mostly male,Continue reading “James Sutherland-Smith, A Snail in Istanbul”
Istanbul by Ümit Yaşar Oğuzcan
Istanbul by Ümit Yaşar Oğuzcan A room in the house, Istanbul in the room A mirror in the room, Istanbul in the mirror The man lit his cigarette, an Istanbul smoke The woman opened her purse, Istanbul in the purse The child cast a fishing line, I saw, And he started to draw it, IstanbulContinue reading “Istanbul by Ümit Yaşar Oğuzcan”
That autumn was abundant by Marjorie Agosín
That autumn was abundant by Marjorie Agosín Translated by Jacqueline Nanfito That autumn was abundant In Istanbul the ancient and platinum Women with their faces covered and discovered My grandfather arrived on foot to this Ottoman city From the desolate Sebastopol and from other burned villages, From the bloody snow. He spoke about its minaretsContinue reading “That autumn was abundant by Marjorie Agosín”
Connemara by Maureen Grady
Connemaraby Maureen Grady I must now leave this landthat I love with a physical longing. There’s a Covid! a tiny local woman calls out,breathless and afraid,as she waves to me from the crossroad.She runs round to my windowto see who I might be,and what in the world I am doingthere in the far, far westonContinue reading “Connemara by Maureen Grady”
POETRY and PLACES 