Passing through the heart
of town, the swollen
Guadalupe River

Simply breathing this
wet air, I am stoned
beyond description

Valley oaks I never
noticed on the median
under the 280 overpass

The old pueblo
coughs up shards of China
bricks bowls and bottles

Guan Yin was bald and brown-skinned
wrapped in a Navajo blanket
at the crossroads

of San Fernando
and Market Street
This year the late rains

Winter came with Spring
the creeks heavy with seep
and persistent cherry blossoms

Funny they never
named Coyote Creek
after a saint.

El Camino changed course
to accommodate squares while
the river abides its course

Floodbanks altered
soil compacted for houses
and that flow remains

Passing through the heart
of town, the swollen
Guadalupe River


Robbie Sugg

About Robbie Sugg

Robbie Sugg is a native Californian artist, musician, and poet currently living in San José. His work is informed by the cultural and literal fault zone: the diverse and interconnected ecology, geology, and human potency of California, the American West, and beyond. His studies in Japanese language, philosophy, and art have expanded his participation in the Pacific Rim cultural sphere. His work has appeared in Lummox, Earthen Lamp, Perfume River Poetry Review, Caesura, The Café Review, Cape Cod Poetry Review, The Newport Review, and Flying Fish, among others.
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