Salinas, CA
Brandon Cook
Salinas is beat to hell now, like a tired cat that has lost its fat
Or a rug left out too late too many nights
I’m not sure what Steinbeck would say;
He would probably have Samuel Hamilton, that great protagonist of light,
Opine that this is the way of all things
And in the midst of it, timshel
Thou mayest, he would sing
But the farms still work
“Feeding America” and “feeding our nation”, the signs say
And some of the great Victorians still stand like beacons of another age
Sentries to remind us what was and what can be:
The pride of fertile land
As mortals stand against the dusty plain and let the great virtue, courage, lift them
In its strong and bracing arms
Courage, the greatest of all—
Once discarded, it still find its way to rise again
Reminding us that in the heart of men,
Amid all the mud and muck and brothels and drunkenness
There is some flower around which we must erect a fence
Not unlike the land, then, our hearts
That land, that land,
That unrivaled land of us
Like a dog’s bark, that will not be hushed
Like a mule, straining against the cart
Like eyes, searching through the dark