​The night Jimi Hendrix died I was unacquainted
with the process of integrating chords and leads, or
with the evolution from mannerism to baroque
and then late baroque style. I was born in a hospital
which was torn down before the dawning of the age
of Aquarius, before there was even a song
about it and the word “psychedelic” got dated
and trite and we no longer felt as far out as we
used to. When I was young I worshipped the god of
disruptive mood swings, silently staring at my
homework before screaming because nobody told me
not to; now I listen to my inner child-like voices
whenever I feel the need to feel free. There’s always
a first time for the last thing you did, and the first time
I went to New York City I was a child and when
I saw trash blowing over the sidewalks and onto
the streets, the business cards, candy wrappers, bread crumbs,
and other discarded bits of food I was
impressed the way only a child can be impressed
by what looks like chaos and disorder but is
really nothing more than a brief change in the weather.
And now that I am no longer a child, I look
upon the vanishing of years, the disappearance
of all the motions I remember making, and those
nights when what is immobile seems to move about
in the dark to reflect the slightest glow of moonlight.
And the greatest blessing bestowed upon us is
aging’s wisdom—shades of faces, shadows of trees and
mountains; endless miles and miles of rolling ocean and
curving road. These and whatever moments can be
called climactic or even divine become even more so
when we realize they can be so easily lost or forgotten.
Those moments so lovely and collapsing like a purple instant
of electric grief after which you smile your outer space smile,
then bring your guitar up to your face, biting strings.

​Jose Padua’s first book, A Short History of Monsters, was chosen by Billy Collins as the winner of the 2019 Miller Williams Poetry Prize and is out from the University of Arkansas Press. His poetry, fiction, and nonfiction have appeared in many publications. He has read his work at Lollapalooza, CBGBs, the Knitting Factory, the Public Theater, the Living Theater, the Nuyorican Poets' Café, the St. Mark's Poetry Project, the Split This Rock festival, and many other venues. He lives with his family in Lancaster, PA.