Vox Populi

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

Audio: Mary Oliver reads “Wild Geese”

Mary Oliver reads “Wild Geese” for Seattle Arts & Lectures’ 2007/08 Season at Benaroya Hall on February 4, 2008.

October 1, 2022 · 3 Comments

Bruce Lowry: Just Long Enough

My desire is only this—to die someplace the earth made beautiful all on its own, the way a first-grader makes the morning glory out of construction paper and Elmer’s glue, … Continue reading

September 29, 2022 · 10 Comments

Rachel Hadas: That Patch of Warmth

August. Midday. Look up: flawless sky
until a cloud sprouts; sidles; suddenly
blots out the sun. Wind troubles the trees

August 10, 2022 · 2 Comments

Dawn Potter: For David

The world is personal,
Dawn says. And what heart-scalded person
would think otherwise

August 1, 2022 · 2 Comments

Mary Jane White: Lindeman

you led me alone
into the sandhills, told me how you were named
for the lindens that grow like smaller oaks
or elms in Europe’s parks

July 20, 2022 · 2 Comments

Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Dusk

Yet, while time takes its time to steal the light,
another music stirs, as if memory’s notes
had escaped their staff, & the past came to sing
beside me of its ordinary moments

July 6, 2022 · 8 Comments

Mary Jane White: Friend, You Count Yourself Faithless,

…the Sea and all her ships
are women you are too certain of —
who would not marry you for love.

May 14, 2022 · Leave a comment

Martin Edmunds: Crowes Pasture

the sky is iron, rusting
round the edges; ravens settle like scorched
pages in the oak

February 8, 2022 · 1 Comment

Lex Runciman: Coast Morning Not a Painting

The upper third color field
is all tin flash, ocean blue shoulders and tics.
That wide mid-brown crossed by shine is sand
and fresh water going home.

January 18, 2022 · 4 Comments

Chard deNiord: I Was Walking Around

in the woods below the house by the stream when suddenly I thought, Why write another thing about the woods or stream or sky as I have for years? Why … Continue reading

January 4, 2022 · 2 Comments

Mary Jane White: Friend, Tell Me, What Can I Know

…always the sun failed again
for the evening, and the short grass fell dull
in the shadows, out of the slant-light.

January 3, 2022 · 3 Comments

Jane Satterfield: Fox

the fox
is interloper, is fur of russet
and iron, is light-footed, is real
in my alley

December 6, 2021 · 5 Comments

Mary Jane White: Why, Friend, With Surprise and Awe

I weep easily and often
now for the world.

November 8, 2021 · 4 Comments

Dawn Potter: Island Weather

headlights painting streaks of rain
on my pale window, and still
the torrent comes faster, faster—bluster, leak,
and squall.

November 3, 2021 · 6 Comments

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