ADVISORY | The texts of poems posted at KQED’s link may not always reflect purposeful line breaks
A MAY TO WARM THE BORDERLANDS
When May warms up our borderlands, Oregon oozes
Shakespeare. Arizona, MĂ©xico, Nevada — they smile,
re-chill, then heat back up all funny. The miles you jog
in El CajĂłn wonâ€™t feel the same in Truckee, El Centro,
Nevada City, Douglas City, Culver City, Lodi, or Taft.
High on May, California travelers, all stone, petrified,
just come down from races up hills and races up
mountains — 880, 680, 580, 280, 101, I-5, all One —
dig into Californiaâ€™s DNA and clink! Hey! May!
Broken out in code and sequences, present-day May
speaks up, shouts out, says: â€śLook deep, reach far
into my vacillating light. Feel my Gold Rush heat
and whorl. Forget about a merry month, sipped wine.
May knows far more than one hot mind can store.
Consider May in brisk Bodega Bay, or borderline L.A.”
— Al Young