Jose Padua: At the Old Jail Downtown
Walking the creaky wooden
floorboards on the second
floor of the museum
at the old jail downtown,
we’re taken back in time…
Jose Padua: Come Play in the Milky Night
At the IHOP in Winchester one night, we were paying for our dinner when the young woman behind the cash register noticed that my young son was looking at something … Continue reading
Michael Simms: Blurbing Jose
Jose Padua’s poems are the twitch of the tail of the cat stalking the mouse of your unconscious.
Jose Padua: Home Sorrow and the Million Ways We Make It Through the World
That weekend was one of those that reminded us of what we love about living in the northern Shenandoah Valley—namely, events like the performance in Castleton, Virginia, some twenty-five miles … Continue reading
Jose Padua: From the Belly to the Head
In my immigrant culture
the custom was for children to live at home with
the family, to contribute to that home, and continue
to do so until they had families of their own,
but I never said that, never explained, never
wanted to say my people do things differently
Jose Padua: Helltown
Back in the familiar wilderness of tattoo parlors and auto parts stores, the cheap motels where there’s always a vacancy, the streets so dry and sunny you can almost feel … Continue reading
Bart Plantenga: Jose Padua’s Poems — Where The Length Of The Titles Are, If Not Everything, At Least Something To Amuse Or Amaze
There’s no disputing it: Jose Padua writes some of the most meaningful poems being written today about today. They are DIY soulful and this is especially important in a world … Continue reading
Jose Padua: Meditation on a Creator of Sorts Written While Eating Sweet Confections in the Rain
The moment feels half decadent and half desperate, these sugared minutes spent barely sheltered from the wetness of the storm, within earshot of the noise of thunder and as close … Continue reading
Jose Padua: And Sunbeams Fell Lightly Upon the Edge of the Grocery Store Parking Lot
Yesterday on the parking lot of the Martin’s grocery store here in Front Royal a woman nearly ran me over after I dropped off my shopping cart in the corral. … Continue reading
Jose Padua: America is Killing my High
Like a sickness that gives you fever and shakes, makes you cough, makes your lungs hurt blowing smoke rings into the sweet country air. Like a car whose engine dies … Continue reading
Jose Padua: Signs of Life
The Biograph Theater in DC, where I first saw Casablanca on something other than a TV screen; Joe Cocker and Leon Russell in Mad Dogs & Englishman, a rock documentary … Continue reading
Jose Padua: On the Slow Decline of the Ugly
We called them ugly stickers. Like baseball cards or football cards, they came in packs of bubblegum except for me they were a lot more interesting— no batting averages for … Continue reading
Jose Padua: Self-Portrait in the Form of a Chalk Outline on the Concrete Belly of America
Jose Padua is a dish best served cold with onions, mushrooms and tomatoes in a light broth and accompanied by a rich lager with subtle aftertones of lemon. Jose Padua … Continue reading
Jose Padua: One for the Morning and the Uninterrupted Dancing in my Head
This morning I’m looking for my copy of Reinbert de Leeuw’s super slow performances of the compositions of Erik Satie to play while I do the work I get paid … Continue reading
