City of
City of
kings becomes city
of gold becomes city
of kings becomes city
of trees and tamed water of city
of corn and other
full sun.
Winter’s long alphabet in shackles at the gate,
Jacaranda and Colorín burst in
This still, where the people have become the flowing
thing, every road a river, every self a brackish stream— we scream
the same as the birds: belonging, belonging,
belonging and other lamentations.
So the temple of sun and the rain will rise again,
vaulted by the earth in the heart of that sinking—a curse
has little regard for the time of man
of city.
Some places feel chronically alive—both in the sweep of history and also in the experience of the street. Mexico City is one of those places. D and I recently returned from a great trip to see the city and, like a true urban planning fan, I couldn’t get over the scale, the food, the immaculate courtyard design… and the driving.
For those who don’t know, Mexico City is a city built on top of an old Aztec city (Tenochtitlan). In the heart of downtown you can see this swatch of time where the remains of an aztec pyramid/temple sit next to a 16th century cathedral and other Euro-style buildings. Also it’s sinking… sort of.
I’ve been a bit quieter on Substack lately. For some reason, maybe travel, house projects, etc., writing poetry hasn’t felt as recharging or urgent for me lately. It’ll come back around, but that’s the reason for the multi-week delays in posting.
In other poetry news, a friend (Ken!) and I are starting a poetry press to get the work of other folks into the world. It’s called Bay Sound Editions and we’ll be announcing our first reading period super soon. You can also follow it on Instagram, if that’s your platform of choice, as Ken shares a bunch of our favorite poems.
With Gratitude,