Among the blight-killed eucalypts, among trees and bushes rusted by Christmas frosts, the yards and hillsides exhausted by five years of drought, certain airy white blossoms punctually reappeared, and dense clusters of pale pink, dark pink— a delicate abundance. They seemed like guests arriving joyfully on the
On March 21, 2012, Governor Jerry Brown appointed Juan Felipe Herrera as the California poet laureate. Herrera is the author of twenty-eight books and currently serves as the Tomas Rivera Endowed Chair in the Department of Creative Writing at the University of California, Riverside. Herrera's work has received wide critical acclaim including numerous national and international awards. He is currently a Chancellor of the Academy of American Poets.
Alejandro Murguía is San Francisco’s sixth poet laureate and the first Latino poet to hold the position. An editor, translator, literary organizer, and prose writer, he is the author of the poetry collections Stray Poems (City Lights Books, 2014) and Native Tongue (CC. Marimbo Press, 2012), among others.
recent & featured listings
|Literary Organization||Poetry Santa Cruz||California|
|Small Press||Kelsey St. Press||California|
|Literary Magazine||Mary: A Journal of New Writing||California|
|Literary Magazine||New American Writing||California|
|Small Press||Poetry Flash||California|
|Literary Magazine||Poetry International||California|
|Small Press||Red Hen Press||California|
|Small Press||Small Press Distribution||California|
|Literary Magazine||The Threepenny Review||California|
Juan Felipe Herrera
What are you thinking about? I am thinking of an early summer. I am thinking of wet hills in the rain Pouring water. Shedding it Down empty acres of oak and manzanita Down to the old green brush tangled in the sun, Greasewood, sage, and spring mustard. Or the hot wind coming down from Santa Ana Driving
The only thing I miss about Los Angeles is the Hollywood Freeway at midnight, windows down and radio blaring bearing right into the center of the city, the Capitol Tower on the right, and beyond it, Hollywood Boulevard blazing —pimps, surplus stores, footprints of the stars —descending through the city