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”
Tag Archives: agriculture
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”
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”
Danvers, Illinois by Richard Spilman
Danvers, Illinois by Richard Spilman There were words Straight as corn, Simple to the tongue as corn, Sentences seried like a field In neat geometrics; And there were moments When the wind stopped And the corn stood silent And heat etched whorls Like rolled glass above the road, When we lifted our heads And listened.Continue reading “Danvers, Illinois by Richard Spilman”
POETRY and PLACES 