Flying Above California
Spread beneath me it lies—lean upland
sinewed and tawny in the sun, and
valley cool with mustard, or sweet with
loquat. I repeat under my breath
names of places I have not been to:
Crescent City, San Bernardino
—Mediterranean and Northern names.
Such richness can make you drunk. Sometimes
on fogless days by the Pacific,
there is a cold hard light without break
that reveals merely what is—no more
and no less. That limiting candour,
that accuracy of the beaches,
is part of the ultimate richness.
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Excerpted from New Selected Poems by Thom Gunn, edited by Clive Wilmer. Published by Farrar, Straus and Giroux November 13th 2018. Copyright © 1954, 1957, 1961, 1965, 1967, 1971, 1976, 1982, 1992, 2000 by Thom Gunn. Selection, introduction, and notes copyright © 2017 by Clive Wilmer. All rights reserved.
