My name is Podrigotuma and I love poems of observation and memory in place.

In the hands of a poet who's showing us landscape, often what we're seeing is what the poet

sees and what the poet sees is a. What's in front of them, but b. also what's behind

or beneath all of the things that they're choosing to see. There's memory associated

with that tree or that track. And by being brought into that even though the poet isn't

there, they are quietly there in their reminiscence, in their memory and in their gathering and

describing of a place they're seeing.

Our episode of Poetry and Bound Today is a conversation between myself and Jake Skietz,

whose poem and daybreak we're going to be looking at. It's Jake's voice you'll hear reading

the poem. I've been reading Jake's work for a number of years and I've loved the work

that he's put out and was thrilled that he was willing to come into a conversation. I

was in Ireland, he was in the United States and we recorded this conversation remotely.

Daybreak

Abine Holzhish

The low moon horizon turquoise serines pinklets from the pulp and fray of world milkweed.

Summer Cypress turkey feathered struts stark pebbled through the sheep corral and shadehouse.

Beneath the horse trough, starthistle and nine on grass reflect night storms and rainbow

through the morning. The suns raise, darling through narrow shoots of cloud, vapor or maybe

morning fog.

Hokado

Above a passing plane or marshawk or maybe a crow casts its wing on the sweet yellow clover

and fieldweed. On the rubble of rust tin can and car axle and wheelbarrow, a basketball

...