Author Archives: stlouisisapoem

About stlouisisapoem

We live in this poem called St. Louis, a poem we're still writing. It's about history, and art, and politics, and business, buildings and streets, rich and poor, and food (of course), and all of the other things that make this city what it is and what it will become. We publish poems about St. Louis, and you're invited to contribute via the comments to posts (for now, until we get our communications organized). Send us a link or an email address, and we'll respond. Help us write the poem that is St. Louis.


The Mississippi to my right I bike South Broadway north to Soulard and downtown a light downhill slope and coast into a smell-wave of yeast, fermentation from stainless cylinders, brewer’s art and brewer’s science behind old brick and stone vented … Continue reading

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A city lies atop a bed of this stuff; it is everywhere, easily uncovered by scratching the thin layer of top soil. The city was constructed of this stuff, mixed and shaped and kilned in reds and yellows by cheap … Continue reading

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Soulard Market

Ancient she is, at least by American standards, but what should be a doddering old dowager is instead bursting with life, specials on tomatoes, did you thump the cantaloupes, I love those big watermelons, apples, peaches from Illinois, Oregon blueberries, … Continue reading

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Mr. Carnegie’s Gift

Constructed with the profits of steel, constructed in an era of empire and imagination and progressiveness and the belief in perfection of mind, constructed with the systematic thought that imagination could be collected and rendered orderly, in beams and crossbeams … Continue reading

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Ramble in the Moonlight

Ten thousand strong we move               forward in the moonlight  at midnight darkness wiping our faces beginning as one but soon becoming               individual drops of rain pouring rolling through deserted streets              through forgotten history memory matters little in … Continue reading

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Bellefontaine: Dancing in the shadows

A city in the shadow,                 a counterpart where  shadows walk and shadows                 sleep, wrapped  in shadow stories                   a shrouded history  of a search for an ocean that                  burgeoned into an empire  a bridge to conquer a river                  a … Continue reading

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Euclid in the rain

I walk Euclid in the sun, on a Sunday. It holds on stubbornly, this street, this bricked line of what was caterers to the families of Westminster, Maryland, McPherson, Taylor, the grand private places of Portland, Westmoreland, palaces of marbled … Continue reading

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Smoke rising from a hundred                         cooking fires Voices floating from a thousand                         murmured conversations Earthen mounds rising like bumps                         on an old man’s face The fires doused the voices silenced the mounds long scraped                        and smoothed … Continue reading

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A fine and private place

Pleasantries and manners: starched swish of crinolined skirts, shadowed by tapered candles, flickering; crystal singing on the dinner table with cigars in the parlor and soft voices in the garden; the muted clicks of carriage wheels, passing, rolling on the … Continue reading

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Bluff view, looking east from Carondelet

Moving water crosses a rising sun, arched bridges bookending a dromedary of possibility. A single tugboat below barges upon waves of golden grain. This view is looking to the northeast from Bellerive Park, in Carondelet on the bluffs overlooking the Mississippi … Continue reading

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