Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

Kristofer Collins: A Poem for Michael Wurster

The only connection I felt to the mills
was to the children of a generation of flayed men
on unemployment, the storefronts boarded…

November 7, 2019 · Leave a comment

Robert Gibb: Enactments of Identity

Years ago the friend of a friend called me
A “Professional Irishman.” Fair enough.

March 17, 2019 · Leave a comment

Robert Gibb: Worker, Steel Mill

Photograph by W. Eugene Smith, c. 1955 . Bug-eyed in those glare-filled goggles, He’s gauntleted and cassocked, garbed To be garbed in fire, which forms a lake On the floor … Continue reading

January 24, 2019 · Leave a comment

Robert Gibb: Deskulling the Slag Pots

i.   You’d see them in the railyard, Coupled and waiting in line To be topped off with that cargo Tapped from the blast furnaces: Magma they’d freight nightly Along … Continue reading

September 25, 2018 · Leave a comment

Robert Gibb: Let Us Now Praise Famous Men

“Sharecropper’s Work Shoes” —Photo by Walker Evans, 1936 . The Magritte who took issue with the ordinary Would have tipped them with toes.   Evans, deferential, simply sets them before … Continue reading

April 13, 2018 · Leave a comment

Robert Gibb: Home Scrap Project — Unemployed Steel Worker, 1987-1988

for Ramon Elouza . Close-ups in an eye-level lineup, His photographed faces hung on their wall, Each behind lines of writing,   well I lost my job my wife and … Continue reading

March 28, 2018 · Leave a comment

Robert Gibb: After the Reading

White cups floating above the waters in their cut-glass vase, The tulips have finally opened, while beside her— Pittsburgh, winter—windows shimmer with freezing rain.   It’s the morning after the … Continue reading

January 8, 2018 · 3 Comments

Robert Gibb: The Culture Wars

“The Ten Commandments is based on what this country was made of.” This from one of the protestors, unhappy the Mosaic tablets are gone this year from the courthouse lawn … Continue reading

November 7, 2017 · Leave a comment

Robert Gibb: Night’s Flock

Solstice: the summer’s premium darkness.   And with it, for the first time in years, The raspy whinnying of screech owls fills my trees.   Their fledglings’ post-nest points of … Continue reading

August 30, 2017 · 1 Comment

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