LA Poetry

7 Mar

I just found out that LA has a poet laureate for the first time: Eloise Klein Healy. And reading her poems certainly haven’t lessened the LA wanderlust I’ve been feeling lately. Pretty, crazy city. I miss you, faults and all.

Los Angeles from the Hollywood Hills

Entries: LA Log

1

The stars shine all day
through my scalp
five foot three inches into space
called atmosphere
or one of the ways to understand a novel.

2
At this address
a bougainvillea lifts her curls
and kisses a Santa Ana with her mouth open
right on its blueblue skies.

3
I like to ride the fast lane
es muy caliente
and under me a red chile siren
pepper peppers Alvarado with cop sauce
as I cross.

4
I know I know
I’m dying a little faster of Los Angeles
but I suck in a piece of it anyway,
sing it out in little puffs
LA LA LA LA
about twenty times altogether
like a bunch of cheerleaders
yelling down the freeway in a bus.

5
Coiling out to Malibu
on a copper strand,
my sunglasses shine
like two westbound storefronts
open to the scenery business.

6
I never owned a map
to the stars’ homes
but I sent to JPL
for 8×10 glossies of Mars
to stick up around my mirror.

7
I note the traffic patterns
of two Ring-billed gulls
flying the Santa Monica Freeway,
pale boomerangs
arching across their backs
as they exit up.

Smooching In The Shadows Under The Double Moon

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One Response to “LA Poetry”

  1. Beach Huts & Pine Woods March 7, 2013 at 7:25 am #

    I feel the same!

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