The Edge of the Continent: The City

By Jacqueline Suskin

This book is about California. Specifically, this second volume is about Southern California, the heavily populated part of the state, the sprawling metropolis, and the thirsty land that supports so many people. Jacqueline Suskin moved to Los Angeles in 2013 and still calls the city home. This book explores her transition into city life after leaving the majesty of Northern California forests and the fulfillment of communal off-the-grid living. In this collection, we move through the struggle of finding beauty, purpose, and joy in urbanity, and in doing so discover the infinite inspiration that exists in a place as unique as Los Angeles.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rare Bird Books
• Release date: Jun 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644281758

Jacqueline Suskin

Jacqueline Suskin has composed over forty thousand poems with her ongoing improvisational writing project, Poem Store. She is the author of six books, including Help in the Dark Season. Her work has been featured in the New York Times, the Atlantic, and Yes! magazine. She lives in Northern California. For more, see jacquelinesuskin.com.

Book preview

Los Angeles

My favorite thing about this city

is that no matter where I’m positioned

in the horizontal sprawl,

I can see a mountain.

Sometimes just a small shoulder,

a brow of brush and rock, but often

a huge brown hunch of land

between buildings, a safeguard

at the end of almost every street.

I’m startled by the presence

of dry dirt and chaparral—

daily proof that I’m surrounded

by undeveloped terrain.

Each view demands

my attention be returned

to the unsilenced

voice of the earth.

A Mountain Brought Me Here

I sat in my tent as fog shifted

through the gulch. I lit my candle

and asked my questions.

Where should I be if not here?

How can I best be in service?

Where is this room of my own?

I arranged the tarot cards

in a fan for the future.

Go where you can reach everyone.

Go where you are loved already by many old friends.

Go to the place that will spread your voice the farthest.

I brushed two brown spiders

from the doorway and they curled up

like peppercorns.

Outside, I stood barefoot

in the wet grass, the sun appeared

as a full melon, a disc of light.

I stared up at Baby Tooth,

my mountain in the mist.

I asked my questions again

and this peak, so small

against the other alps, started speaking.

I heard four syllables, the name

of a hot southern city. It took me

a year to accept the invitation,

but a mountain had demanded direction

and I needed to follow its lead.

I Am Not a City Person

I knew I had to come

and here I am with a sack

of loquats picked

from the bushes on the boulevard.

A year ago, I imagined the appeal

of city anonymity, the rush

and weirdness of a place so full.

I saw a vision of myself

seated in a café, a book open

on a marble table and my eyes

wandering to meet many other eyes.

Now that I’ve arrived, everything

outside my apartment is vibrating

and I can hardly stand the frequency.

I sit alone in my room looking

at no one, grateful that the view out

my window is only two tall palm trees.

Desert Rose

I didn’t expect to find

a mother made of light

in my bedroom. Yellow

curtains cast a golden

hue and I’m illuminated.

Guided in breath, I go deep

into that place that only

the body can create, a calmness

that wipes away all questions.

She arrives with a name

Desert Rose

and stands as an outline

of spirit shining before me.

I feel the weight

of her hands in my hands

for an hour. Her words

sound like radiant chimes.

Nurturing spirit