L.A. Sounds

One of the first decent poems I wrote at the start of my graduate studies back in 2008.


Here in L.A. where neon pink
bougainvillea traipses
over wrought iron fence,
where rosemary fattens
on sidewalks and
stands of sycamore bleed
their beautiful wounds;
here among the silent fading
of Basho’s broad banana leaf,
at this white corner in dry noon,
this room of air and cloud,
I hear one bird in a jagged tree,
its sweet voice filling the blue.
Here in the sun,
one bird

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