Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

Doug Anderson: Operation Badger Tooth

Once a year, on December 25, a darkness comes up from the earth into my life. On December 24th, nineteen sixty-seven, a battalion landing team comprised of three infantry companies … Continue reading

December 29, 2016 · 5 Comments

Doug Anderson: Morning Poem

  In the detail from Botticelli’s painting, the one of the oranges in their deep green trees at twilight, I’m able to feel it again. As a child, I didn’t … Continue reading

December 7, 2016 · Leave a comment

Doug Anderson: Youth And All That

After Keats My mind was everywhere but seeing. The tree was just another me, the water my fluid state. And others, well, they might as well have been wearing my … Continue reading

November 28, 2016 · Leave a comment

Doug Anderson: Tucson, 1968

We were still, I think, beautiful, even after that jug of cheap Chianti that stained her teeth and t-shirt, our breath combined enough to kill an orchid. I watched her … Continue reading

November 2, 2016 · 1 Comment

Doug Anderson: On Sex, Politics and Poetry

My friend Jane Legrand has written “I must find something to do with all that I feel.” What a perfect expression of why we write act direct draw sing photograph. … Continue reading

September 16, 2016 · 1 Comment

Doug Anderson: On Politics, Poetry and Love

Truth pronounced begins to petrify. Except in the case words so woven they keep an inner fire alive that flares at the reader’s breath. Poetry is yeast inside language. Imagination … Continue reading

August 26, 2016 · 1 Comment

Doug Anderson: The Eye of the Heart

Opens in sleep when there are no fingers to close it. As if it were dead. It is open all day as well but only speaks in the dark when … Continue reading

August 19, 2016 · 1 Comment

Doug Anderson: The Men Who Fought the War

The Vietnam War lives in kind of a fog just off our left shoulder. It hovers there, will not go away, demands to be seen. But we don’t look. It … Continue reading

August 7, 2016 · 2 Comments

Doug Anderson: The Shoplifter

When the security guard Grabbed him by his jacket When he ran He wriggled out of it Left the guard Holding it, like a lizard’s tail In a cat’s mouth. … Continue reading

July 22, 2016 · Leave a comment

Doug Anderson: Number 1 Broadway Local, 1981

Armpits soaked through shirts, through suit jackets, urinous funk of a madwoman sleeping, taking up two seats in a subway car crammed with the silent going home, the last bit … Continue reading

July 14, 2016 · Leave a comment

Doug Anderson: Street Photography

Wonder how long it took people to get over the shock of the first photographs, the exact replication of the human image? Was it eerie? Did people feel that something … Continue reading

May 21, 2016 · 2 Comments

Doug Anderson: How Nazis

The man in the driver’s seat of the minivan is just short of backhanding his wife but screams instead. The contractor towing a backhoe shouts at a woman who has … Continue reading

May 5, 2016 · 1 Comment

Doug Anderson: Procedure

While the doctors were riding around in me in their little chrome submarine, and a sniper with his snippers stood by the bay door poised to pluck any polyp stupid … Continue reading

April 22, 2016 · 2 Comments

Doug Anderson: A Marriage

There is the infatuation with poetry, the first publication, first book, first prize, the dreams of fame and universal importance and then there is the marriage to poetry, the fading … Continue reading

March 24, 2016 · 2 Comments