Monthly Archives: June 2020

Jose Padua to Guest at Spoken World Online June 15th–Monday’s Theme: Growing Pains

SpokenWord Paris

JP_Self-Portrait_IMG_20190726_152900_658Jose Padua’s first full length book, A Short History of Monsters, was chosen by former poet laureate Billy Collins as the winner of the 2019 Miller Williams Poetry Prize and is now out from the University of Arkansas Press. His poetry, fiction, and nonfiction have appeared in publications such as BombSalon.comBeloit Poetry JournalExquisite CorpseAnother Chicago MagazineUnbearablesCrimes of the Beats, Up is Up, but So Is Down: New York’s Downtown Literary Scene, 1974-1992, and others. He has written features and reviews for SalonThe WeeklingsNYPress, Washington City Paper, the Brooklyn Rail, and the New York Times, and has read his work at Lollapalooza, CBGBs, the Knitting Factory, the Public Theater, the Living Theater, the Nuyorican Poets’ Café, the St. Mark’s Poetry Project, and many other venues. He was a…

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In the Season of Blue Afternoons and Starry Starry Nights

Photograph by Jose Padua
It’s 1979 and I’m just out of college
and loving the landscape doing the
only kind of traveling I can afford
when the Greyhound bus stops along
the highway in Arizona and the man
with the uniform and gun walks down
the aisle, looks at my face, then asks
in that serious monotone voice that I
can hardly believe isn’t coming out
of the mouth of some science fiction
robot, “Do you have your papers?”
And I pause, because I’m wondering
if the rich kids went through something
similar when they did spring break in
Cancun, Jamaica, the Bahamas. Then
I look him in the eyes and say with
a slow, clear voice in an attempt
to demonstrate that I speak English
very well, “No, I don’t have any
papers, I’m an American citizen,”
and it’s then that I finally realize
that before a time of healing there
must come a time of great strife,
a period of tremendous noise and
the unceremonious toppling of
comfortable institutions, and that
for me—unlike the rich kids, the
other kids, the kids who had it
the easy way, the American way—
love and travel would always be
acts of revolution.

-Jose Padua

Photograph by Jose Padua

A Million Steps for Gone Mothers

Photograph by Jose Padua
To all the mothers long gone, recently gone, or
taken in the last hours or minutes by greed,
tyrannical governments, bad luck, poverty,
sickness, and all manner of disadvantaged
circumstances and the deprivation of rights
and liberties and the agency of time, we say
stand up, rise up like heat seeking flowers,
piss on the walls, pull down the fences until
your oppressors start fleeing in disbelief and
with utter rancor. You who have given birth
to the best of us will watch whilst shouting
joyous imprecations. You who have been
looked over, glossed over, and otherwise
pushed aside are now treading the streets
with whatever footwear you feel like wearing.
These carnations are planted in your memory.
Their colors catch the light as if never letting go.

-Jose Padua

Photograph by Jose Padua