Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

Paul Christensen: The Rain It Raineth Every Day

They say the average cloud weighs about the same as eighty elephants. A big storm such as now darkens the sky overhead must be an infinite parade of elephants milling around in the dark gray pastures above us.

October 27, 2019 · Leave a comment

Paul Christensen: Ghosts and Memories

It’s the place where the dead are sleeping, barely breathing in the moist black earth along the creek. They will rise when the time comes, and ask the living for a candle, perhaps a dish with a cookie on it.

October 13, 2019 · 1 Comment

Paul Christensen: Nutshells

The inside of a nutshell is chambered like the heart, with little ridges and flanges where the nut grew and prepared itself for falling into the waiting earth. That’s what I smell when I hold up a nutshell to my nose. It is the odor of anticipation, the willingness to be sacrificed to the sharp teeth of an animal worrying the shell until it breaks.

September 15, 2019 · Leave a comment

Paul Christensen: Summer’s End

Summer is like old gold, dark with age. You feel its strength become mellow and pliable in the soft breezes. There is wisdom in the heat that still simmers along the edges of noon, as if it were trying to tell us that illness or aging are as natural as drawing breath.

September 8, 2019 · 1 Comment

Michael Simms: Dogsbody to the Muse

Sometimes it’s painful to watch a group of poets trying to work a room as if they were politicians. The AWP conference, as the wag put it, is comprised of 15,000 introverts pretending to be extroverts.

August 25, 2019 · 12 Comments

Paul Christensen: Second Sight

My mother was Italian, a passionate, sensuous woman who believed in fortune telling and heeding the voice of intuition, which was very strong inside her. She told me she had been born under a veil, meaning the amniotic sack at birth, and that this was the sign of her prophetic powers.

July 14, 2019 · 1 Comment

Paul Christensen: A Memory

I remember standing in a south wind staring at a cut bank of the Brazos River. The ground above was lush and green, with some beef cows nibbling on tufts … Continue reading

June 2, 2019 · Leave a comment

Paul Christensen: The American Dream

I never mastered the art of the hustle, and the bar, with its stench of stale beer and cigar smoke, intimidated me. I shined my father’s shoes for a dime, and scrubbed the polish off my hands with cleanser. Life is hard, and I was getting beat up by it.

May 5, 2019 · 1 Comment

Paul Christensen: The Waiting Game

I sometimes think of myself as Jody Tiflin, the boy from John Steinbeck’s story who longed to have his mare Nellie deliver a foal, the red pony, only to discover … Continue reading

April 14, 2019 · 1 Comment

Paul Christensen: The Vernal Equinox

I found three tiny crocus sprouts in the garden today. They were as innocent as a boy’s first pubic hair, tentative and shy, but determined to flow with time toward … Continue reading

March 24, 2019 · Leave a comment

Paul Christensen: January’s Two Faces

Nothing can make the soul shiver more than to look upon those tree-covered slopes with their icy diamonds shimmering on their skin. They are there to remind you that your mortality means nothing to them. They stand for the severity of time, the rules of the universe that have nothing to do with our petty lives.

January 13, 2019 · 1 Comment

Paul Christensen: The Dregs of October

I’m staring out of a large window onto a stone wall where an ancient grape vine hangs heavy with bunches of blue grapes. There’s no one to cut down these … Continue reading

October 28, 2018 · Leave a comment

Paul Christensen: After the Equinox

It’s fall here in southern France. The tourists have thinned out to a trickle of rubbernecks aiming their smart phones at almost anything green or shaggy with vines. They hardly … Continue reading

October 7, 2018 · Leave a comment

Paul Christensen: Wearing my corrective lenses

. Sometimes I find myself wandering out of a book into a rambling daydream, one that has neither a beginning nor an end, just a labyrinth of choices and minor … Continue reading

September 9, 2018 · Leave a comment

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

Join 10,800 other followers

Blog Stats

  • 3,773,791 hits

Archives