On Poetry and Culture Shock


The only shade of green Cornell misses:
Dull silver of olive trees.

El único tono de verde que falta en Cornell:
Plata mate de los olivos.

I haven’t written enough haiku about trees, considering how much I identify the landscape of towns with the local trees (or their absence). I can’t like a town that doesn’t have plenty of trees.

This was the first poem I wrote in Ithaca. It took me many weeks to let the impressions of the new place rest for long enough to write poems about them, and then I started writing frantically about people instead of landscapes.

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