by Alejandro Escudé
The Los Angeles River flows at a powerful rate as a huge storm brings flooding and landslides to the west coast. Photograph: David McNew/Getty Images via The Guardian, January 16, 2023
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I listen to Paradise Lost in my car as the rain pours at night, picturing the first couple as they huddle among the grasses and fruits. From my car window, as if up toward heaven, I see an uphill rain-slick boulevard, passenger planes landing at LAX, like blurry UFO’s. The sound is exhilarating, an aquatic thrashing, my car sloshing over corner oceans, the wipers struggling to sweep a sinless version of the city. I roll the window down just as Satan calls out his fellow seraphim, like a zillion tuna schooling out of a darkened precipice. Even if it’s atmospheric, and a river, it’s still rain, the wind wind, the forecast? Our fallen state, our bodies water-logged, the reflection of all the lights at night splitting heaven and hell into equal refractions.
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Alejandro Escudé published his first full-length collection of poems My Earthbound Eye in September 2013. He holds a master’s degree in creative writing from UC Davis and teaches high school English. Originally from Argentina, Alejandro lives in Los Angeles with his wife and two children.
"the wipers struggling to sweep
a sinless version of the city."