Category Archives: agriculture

The Pomegranate by Kahlil Gibran

The Pomegranate by Kahlil Gibran Once when I was living in the heart of a pomegranate, I heard a seed saying, “Someday I shall become a tree, and the wind will sing in my branches, and the sun will dance on my leaves, and I shall be strong and beautiful through all the seasons.” ThenContinue reading “The Pomegranate by Kahlil Gibran”

Nguyễn Phan Quế Mai, The Poem I Can’t Yet Name

The Poem I Can’t Yet Name by Nguyễn Phan Quế Mai Translated from the Vietnamese by Nguyễn Phan Quế Mai and Bruce Weigl For my grandmother My hands lift high a bowl of rice, the seeds harvested in the field where my grandmother was laid to rest. Each rice seed tastes sweet as the sound ofContinue reading “Nguyễn Phan Quế Mai, The Poem I Can’t Yet Name”

By Bus to Fresno by Philip Levine

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”

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”

Kid, this is Iowa by Jeffrey Bean

Kid, this is Iowaby Jeffrey Bean everything we are is here—my dead grandmother as a girlhunting fireflies in tiger lilies,me throwing walnuts at gas cansby the barn, stomping mud puddles,my sticky hands lifting an appleto my mouth. Here are dogwoods and hills of corn that lead to more hillsof corn and more corn until theContinue reading “Kid, this is Iowa by Jeffrey Bean”

Hokusai in Iowa by Dan Campion

          I no longer remember I am here      there being no mountain and I at its foot           reading the sea-level poems about me     to Grant Wood whose denim bib rustles like a skiff’s sail           perhaps waves in dirt and tassels      really are like waves of the sea so long as we do not think about           whoseContinue reading “Hokusai in Iowa by Dan Campion”

Indian Summer by Diane Glancy

Indian Summerby Diane Glancy There’s a farm auction up the road.Wind has its bid in for the leaves.Already bugs flurry the headlightsbetween cornfields at night.If this world were permanent,I could dance full as the squaw dresson the clothesline.I would not see winterin the square of white yard-light on the wall.But something tugs at me.The worldContinue reading “Indian Summer by Diane Glancy”