L.A. Blue: Los Angeles Poetry

 New Poetry about your favorite city, Los Angeles. Filled with descriptive images of iconic features of life in LA , the stanzas reveal tid bits of local lore that will make you feel better informed.

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Hot Air

The name of that wind is Satana

It’s hot and it’s dusty and dry,

Don’t call the wind Santa Ana

In error, for that is a lie.

Saint Ann the mother of Mary

Is remembered in so many ways

But not for a wind that blows from the desert

And makes your skin and eyes craze.

In Nineteen O’ One a reporter

In error rushed his dispatch in

He wrote Santa Ana the rotter,

It is he that committed the sin.

The name is Vientos de Sataná

The wind of the devil that’s hot,

A weather man called it Santana

But that is a name it is not.

So we are left here in confusion,

Raymond Chandler back in ’thirty eight

In “Red Wind” to Santa Anas made allusion

As conditions the local folk hate.

The wind blowing in from the passes,

Curls your hair, makes nerves up tight,

Drying the air and scorching the grasses

And everyone’s edgy all night.