Joseph Stroud was educated at the University of San Francisco, California State University at Los Angeles, and San Francisco State University. He is currently retired from teaching at Cabrillo College.
He has published five collections of poetry, most recently Of This World; New and Selected Poems (Copper Canyon Press, 2008) and Country of Light (Copper Canyon Press, 2004). His work earned a Pushcart Prize in 2000 and has been featured on Garrison Keillor’s Writer’s Almanac. He was also a finalist for the Northern California Book Critics Award in 2005 and a year later was selected for a Witter Bynner Fellowship in poetry from the Library of Congress.
Varied in subject and form, Stroud’s poems include six-line lyrics, narrative prose poems, odes, homages, sustained contemplations, suites, and brief epigrammatic offerings. However it is substance, whatever form it takes, that interests him. His poetry articulates a voyage through places and times and voices, often sifting through the details of daily life, searching for miracles (“Inside the pear there’s a paradise we will never know, our only hint the sweetness of its taste.” – Comice, Below Cold Mountain).
He divides his time between his home in Santa Cruz, California, and a cabin in the Sierra Nevada. (Bio reposted from April 15, 2016.)
Short one today! I love this little poem because, being a worst case scenario-type person, it really tickled my fancy. As in, no matter where you go, the darkness will always find you! That is significant for me because I’ve spent the better part of the last two years learning that I’m both dark and light and that it’s ok. That’s how EVERYONE is…
Night in Day
The night never wants to end, to give itself over
to light. So it traps itself in things: obsidian, crows.
Even on summer solstice, the day of light’s great
triumph, where fields of sunflowers guzzle in the sun—
we break open the watermelon and spit out
black seeds, bits of night glistening on the grass.
Picture Source: http://www.poemhunter.com