Summer 2001 • Vol. XXIII No. 3/4 PoetryJuly 1, 2001 |

A Valley in the Shadow of North Hollywood

As if cued to the first peach prayer-call of sunrise, the scattered choir of radio alarm clocks summon the sleeping body from celestial time to a work-week morning in the suburbs where, with a backwoods preacher's broadcast squall, the day-long labor of a garbage truck begins again to dispense with each upended fall the welling burden of our discontents. Our first thoughts, then, are of garbage cans and the human soul, that ancient service by which the one laid low is taken in hand, impelled once more to reclaim its outcast station in the home; or, as the case may be, unheavened altogether on the paving stones, a reminder that, no matter how fully a soul comes clean, there are certain transgressions which still require some harder pardon, some suffering we'll manage to overlook when, for example, cresting the high prospect of an overpass, the sun relapses and the addict climbs back to the storm pipe he's made his home. And called to the reckoning of that hour, each ev

Already have an account? Login

Join KR for even more to read.

Register for a free account to read five free pieces a month from our current issue and digital archive.
Register for Free and Read This Piece



Or become a subscriber today and get complete, immediate access to our digital archives at every subscription level.

Read More

Ilium

By Sherod Santos

As if cued to the first peach prayer-call of sunrise, the scattered choir of radio alarm clocks summon the sleeping body from celestial time to a work-week morning in the […]

Subscribe

Your free registration with Kenyon review incudes access to exclusive content, early access to program registration, and more.

Donate

With your support, we’ll continue 
to cultivate talent and publish extraordinary literature from diverse voices around the world.