Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

Jose Padua: Silent Tongues in the House of the Rising Sun

what’s even more beautiful
is that tonight in my small sleepy town
I can look up to the sky and see
a deep blue silence surrounding
a half, nearly see-through moon

June 12, 2021 · Leave a comment

Jose Padua: Head Over Heels

At the doctor’s office in Charlottesville, Virginia
to investigate the possible reasons
for my ten-month-old son’s large head,
the doctor measures my own
and informs me that my head size
is off the curve, off the charts

May 25, 2021 · Leave a comment

Jose Padua: Directions in Music and Other Ways of Approaching the Day

what he wants to do
sounds better than
what I want to do
we sit in the car
and listen
until the song is over

April 22, 2021 · 6 Comments

Jose Padua: Union Square

their crazy dad, his singular
song, with the only people putting money
in his cup looking as crazy as he did

April 13, 2021 · 4 Comments

Jose Padua: To the Ruling Class and All the Fearful Acolytes of Its Pale Supremacy

the sweetly subtle strength of a great
and rarely spoken language

February 25, 2021 · 4 Comments

Jose Padua: Stray Cats and the Prospect of Evenings Illuminated by the Full Moon

I wonder about things that may one day rise slowly
from beneath dry, brown grass; the beautiful sights
made visible by the drifting off of clouds, and the
slow telling of tall tales under the hunter’s full moon.

January 5, 2021 · Leave a comment

Jose Padua: Ten Sonnets for Electric Motherfuckers

What thou lovest well remains electric like the ocean’s
breaking waves; what you break turns dialectic like
a brick thrown through the window of an oligarch’s
flagship store.

August 30, 2020 · 5 Comments

Jose Padua: On Driving up Stonewall Jackson Highway with the Intention of Declaring Sovereignty Over the Surrounding Territories

I drive with the windows
rolled down
and the stereo
turned up loud
to Ella Fitzgerald
singing “Blue Skies”
as I look up

August 13, 2020 · 1 Comment

Jose Padua: And I Walked Through the Market and Stared at the Harbor Lights Through the Soft Rain

And sometimes the best way
to express belief of any kind
is to laugh

July 18, 2020 · 2 Comments

Jose Padua: Reflections on a Lesson that Would Soon Be Made More Clear to Me by Gil Scott-Heron

In 1971 I’m
thirteen years old
watching a big
Vietnam war protest
on television

June 13, 2020 · 6 Comments

Jose Padua: Days of Being Wild

in the late middle
of my mortal days on earth
I am still wild in the heart

May 12, 2020 · 5 Comments

Jose Padua: Self-Portrait as Human and as House

I can’t imagine how boring I’d be now
if I’d always been the best person
I could be instead of operating
at fifty percent of my capacity
or sometimes even less.

February 19, 2020 · Leave a comment

Jose Padua: Prelude to a Highly Personal Confabulation of Zen and the Art of War

how I could one day live in New York City
with half my mind in a flame-like state
of absolute intensity

January 23, 2020 · Leave a comment

Jose Padua: Glenn Gould’s Search for Petula Clark

Thinking of what might have been,
I save every piece of paper and take my time
coming down from the mountain, believing
in the wisdom of taking the long way home.

December 29, 2019 · 3 Comments

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