Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature: over 400,000 monthly users

Molly Fisk: Singing Canyon Sonnet

I have to say something about the blue grasses by the side of the road,  the red rock rising behind them, a lacy kind of scrub juniper,  yellow-green in afternoon … Continue reading

March 27, 2019 · Leave a comment

Lauren Camp: Exposure

After Ansel Adams’ “Moonrise Over Hernandez, New Mexico 1941″

February 4, 2019 · Leave a comment

Molly Fisk: Desolation :: Reservation

Thousands of acres of parched ground. Dead sage, scattered shacks made from tin and rescued plywood, burned-out single-wides, pick-ups rusting in place where their engines stopped. No sign of life … Continue reading

November 26, 2018 · 1 Comment

Molly Fisk: Summer Lightning

In the morning while it’s still cool we hose down the yard, watch a red sun crest the ridge, haloed in wildfire smoke   that drifted 200 miles and stalled … Continue reading

September 10, 2018 · Leave a comment

Molly Fisk: Cancer, again

this time a slow- growing rarity tracing delicate tendrils through kidney and liver, the lung’s sturdy wall, artery somewhere I can’t remember, though twice I’ve been told. How the mind … Continue reading

July 18, 2018 · 1 Comment

Molly Fisk: Let Me Call You Sweetheart

Yesterday a young man called me sweetheart and then widened his eyes and asked “Is that OK, to call you sweetheart? I call everyone I like sweetheart, even the men.” … Continue reading

June 2, 2018 · Leave a comment

Molly Fisk: Nine Short Lives

One of my cats just jumped to the floor from the bathroom sink, where he’d been sipping drops of leftover water, and made a very loud thump. I looked up … Continue reading

May 16, 2018 · 1 Comment

Molly Fisk: National Politics

Even though we watch every year as the snow melts and runs along ditches and gutters, finds the low places, enters the creeks and the culverts, fanning out wider to … Continue reading

March 21, 2018 · 1 Comment

Molly Fisk: An Apiary Has Nothing to Do with Apes

One of the things I’m good at is linking people together. Not match-making,  although two couples have married who fell in love during my poetry class. Usually it’s more practical: … Continue reading

March 12, 2018 · 2 Comments

Molly Fisk: Heading home

This is and is not a Wendell Berry novel,
a Mary Oliver poem. This is one block of a California Gold Rush
town with a bloody, tree-less history, known mostly now for pot
and a kind of rueful quaintness, where people you love
have died and been buried, have been born.

February 26, 2018 · Leave a comment

Molly Fisk: Clichés of Our Times

I am not so blessed or so not blessed, being a lapsed Unitarian who believes only in oaks and sunlight, nor am I honored, a once-bright thought now sunk into … Continue reading

February 7, 2018 · 2 Comments

Molly Fisk: On the Disinclination to Scream

If I had been a ten year old stranger and you had tripped me in a dark alley, say, downtown, instead of our mutual living room I’m sure I would … Continue reading

December 28, 2017 · 2 Comments

Molly Fisk: Hunter’s Moon

Mid-December, dusk, and the sky slips down the rungs of its blue ladder into indigo. A late-quarter moon hangs in the air above the ridge like a broken plate and … Continue reading

December 11, 2017 · 1 Comment

Molly Fisk: Deportee

Last week someone in our town ran a stop sign. Well, probably 47 people ran stop signs, but only one resulted in the threat of imminent deportation to the Grand … Continue reading

December 1, 2017 · 1 Comment

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

Join 12,183 other followers

Blog Stats

  • 4,339,702 hits