Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
John McAuliffeBill Manhire in Conversation with John McAuliffe
(PN Review 259)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Patricia CraigVal Warner: A Reminiscence
(PN Review 259)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Tim Parksin conversation with Natalia Ginzburg
(PN Review 49)
Next Issue Gwyneth Lewis ‘Spiderings’ Ian Thomson ‘Fires were started: Tallinn, 1944’ Adrian May ‘Traditionalism and Tradition’ Judith Herzberg ‘Poems’ translated by Margitt Helbert Horatio Morpurgo ‘What is a Book?’
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PN Review 276
PN Review Substack

This poem is taken from PN Review 177, Volume 34 Number 1, September - October 2007.

Three Poems John Peck

Four Rivers and the Pennsy Yards

Laid out on cowpaths
                                 muck then mustard brick
Pittsburgh, East Pittsburgh, the South Hills coil and trail
sinewy. By the 'forties stick by stick
plank stairs and sawtooth roofs still clambered up shale

framing the incline, barges, staggered bridges
on Ohio, Monongahela, Allegheny.
Rawtooth, fresh soot each morning on their edges.
Bessemers lioned in my sleep, orange, runny.

I came back at sixteen, a scout for Yale
sizing me up. And stayed one more whole day,
father insisting I choose my own hotel,
have breakfast over the newspaper, play

at being my own man in the city. Towards
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image