Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature. Over 400,000 monthly users. Over 6,000 archived posts.

Jose Padua: Ten Sonnets for Electric Motherfuckers — The Second Decad

Karen, call the cops, he’s waiting by the curb
reading Colson Whitehead’s least popular book, I can smell him from
here, he’s wearing Pakistani musk, furrowing his frou frou eyebrows…

November 5, 2022 · 2 Comments

Jose Padua: What I’m Reading

History is layered, full of bones and ghosts, herself a storm of beau- tiful, frightening talent.

October 25, 2022 · 2 Comments

Jose Padua: Whether You’re Going Away or Going Home Depends More on the Direction of the Wind Than on The Time of Day or What State You’re In

thankful for the colors
blue, green, and the almost
red that appears in the half dark
near the afternoon’s end

September 15, 2022 · Leave a comment

Jose Padua: An Existential Traffic Update for the I-81 Corridor

The Burger King down the block
is open during renovations
and the man who
got shot several times
at his house a few streets away
on Saturday night
survived

September 1, 2022 · Leave a comment

Jose Padua: North Richmond Street, Being Blind

This place used to be
called Helltown and some people still call it
that, except at that precise hour when the sky
over the mountains is a perfect flinty lapis lazuli
blue, and the river is a woman named Edna with
the most joyous laugh

July 19, 2022 · 2 Comments

Jose Padua: A Brief Meditation on the Clouds That Hover Over the DNA Building in York, Pennsylvania

I always knew this was
where the instructions
were written

June 28, 2022 · 3 Comments

Jose Padua: Puñeta

Mother, you were the history
that never made the books,
the woman who fed us
chicken flavored with garlic
and ginger, sweet pork with
soy sauce and rice

May 7, 2022 · Leave a comment

Jose Padua: Those Years That Went Down

daytime drunks
still gather,
no longer hidden by
the ornament
of night

February 15, 2022 · 3 Comments

Jose Padua: With the Morning Moon Shining Down Upon Me through These Thick Walls

This morning I pounded
a nail into the wall
using a book
by Franz Kafka.

January 20, 2022 · 2 Comments

Jose Padua: My Favorite Bartender in New York City

My favorite bartender in New York wasn’t
some hot young thing with a sexy foreign
accent but a woman in her 60s who’d say
“Nice to see youse guys”

December 31, 2021 · 8 Comments

Jose Padua: I Am a Small Guitar

I am a small guitar in a large room on a Saturday
sometime after four when the last lunch guest
has driven home, beating the rain…

November 26, 2021 · 2 Comments

Jose Padua: A Routine Evaluation of My Accomplishments at a Late Stage in the Middle Part of My Career

These years of love
have sustained me far beyond anything
I ever could have imagined; a dusting to
an inch of snow overnight on cold asphalt
resulting in a two hour delay is all part
of the good life.

October 23, 2021 · 1 Comment

Jose Padua: A Short History of Monsters and Everything Else that Gives Substance to the Dream

in deference to the perverse dreaming
of the dwindling numbers of the upwardly mobile as
they trash and burn their merry way to their new luxury
condominiums decorated in beautiful pastel colors.

October 14, 2021 · 2 Comments

Jose Padua: Until the End of the Rain and the Sudden Demise of Endless Rainy Nights

let us gather our objects of grief like fierce weapons
against the kingdom of the ruling class

October 7, 2021 · 5 Comments

Enter your email address to follow Vox Populi and receive new posts by email.

Join 12,340 other followers

Blog Stats

  • 4,582,445 hits

Archives