Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Nature, and Politics

Jose Padua: Party Invitation for the Age of Unnatural Disasters

If life were like a perfume commercial I’d be spending even more time than I already do gazing pensively into the distance the top buttons of my shirt undone my … Continue reading

October 18, 2017 · Leave a comment

Jose Padua: For the City and These Long Decades Spent Wandering

After dinner one evening my six year old son declares “Trump is a barbarian” from out of nowhere or anywhere I can immediately recall not that speaking the truth ever … Continue reading

September 22, 2017 · 2 Comments

Jose Padua: To the Trump Supporter Who Called Me and My Kids Dirtbags

Because I try to respond to racism and ignorance with something positive, intelligent, and sophisticated, and because I always try to set a good example for my children, but mostly … Continue reading

August 28, 2017 · 1 Comment

Jose Padua: Because Even in the Darkest of Days Revolution Is a Movement Towards the Light

On the same day in August 1967 when American Nazi Party leader George Lincoln Rockwell was killed, my younger brother was born: one bad guy down, one good guy up … Continue reading

August 7, 2017 · Leave a comment

Jose Padua: Marquee Moon

This is a poem for all the nobodies who got fucked over by someone with a name and became ghosts, who once held blueberries and radishes and tiny animals in … Continue reading

July 23, 2017 · Leave a comment

Jose Padua: In the Someday with the Sound of All the Passing Years

We only have one TV in the house, and last night Julien took a break from whatever he wanted to watch and let Maggie take control of it. What she … Continue reading

June 27, 2017 · Leave a comment

Jose Padua: How I Came to the Valley

When there are so many things in the world to regret, why is it I regret so little? Lessons I learned either by doing or not doing, outcomes that in … Continue reading

May 23, 2017 · Leave a comment

Jose Padua: And the Visions Go on Endlessly Like the Passing of These Many Years

At 4:20 on a Thursday in the valley where I live I’m at the optometrist’s office in Winchester helping my eleven year old daughter pick out her first pair of … Continue reading

May 8, 2017 · Leave a comment

Jose Padua: Restraint

It takes great effort on my part, walking the colorful, tree-lined streets on these fresh and beautiful new spring days, not to turn to the next person coming my way, … Continue reading

April 10, 2017 · 1 Comment

Jose Padua: Sometimes the Blizzard in My Head Makes It Hard to Find My Way Through the Snow

Twenty years ago during a fierce mid-March blizzard in New York City I walked two doors down from my apartment building to the China Wok carryout at the corner of … Continue reading

March 2, 2017 · 1 Comment

Jose Padua: On the Persistence of Color as a Way of Seeing the World

Less than fifty years ago it would have been illegal for me to marry the woman I’m married to in the state where I now live. I didn’t know this … Continue reading

February 13, 2017 · Leave a comment

Michael Simms: The Very American Poetry of Jose Padua

What are poets for in destitute times? — Hölderlin . Every poem is a subversive act. In an age when our senses are benumbed by competing media screaming for our … Continue reading

January 4, 2017 · 6 Comments

Jose Padua: Reflections on a Formation of Birds Seen Above a Parking Lot in Lebanon, Pennsylvania During the Winter Solstice

Though some will tell you otherwise, with reasons ranging from aerodynamic efficiency to a following of a leader in order to make it to a certain destination, there really is … Continue reading

December 21, 2016 · Leave a comment

Jose Padua: The Wall and What Surrounds It

I’m thinking that someone else has probably already written a poem about building a wall around Donald Trump’s penis so I’m going to write about the leaves this fall; the … Continue reading

December 9, 2016 · 1 Comment