top of page

• poet laureate •

Following the publication of BONE in El Segundo Writes, Anne became Poet Laureate for Arts Magazine El Segundo Scene, from March 2021 to April 2022, serving South Bay communities of Los Angeles.


The job over 12 months was to commemorate place, people, and events through narrative work. Here she celebrates California with an examination of its pre-historic past, a journey through the human years of settlement, and completes the work with with a future vision. Originally entitled The El Segundo Quartet it is now more widely known as The California Quartet.


12 instalments use a framework of Water, Earth, Air, and Fire.

The parts appear here (left to right) as they are published in the magazine, but can be read either in their time frame, or as each element.

• california quartet •

four elements in time

- the prehistoric past -


Before us, and the Mariposa Blue*,

Before liquid trees, human commotion,

Before great machines took off and flew,

There was the sea, the wild, wild ocean.

Boiling once, it carved its bed,

Unseen it pacified, knew sleep,

We - barely hatched - dared its dread,

Fed off its might, the risky deep.

Ahead of those here on the shore,

The Tongva** stood, perhaps hands to brow,

Scanning sunset hues for more,

A mortal bridge from then to now.

published March issue 2021

AIR 1.

Before us, the white crowned sparrow views

A dawn Pleistocene horizon.

Before us, he rides on thermal spew,

Volcanic jets of vapour rising.

Amid rabbitbrush, the zephyrs tease,

Glad gusts snag the juniper.

Weed-rot, still bogs, perfume the breeze,

Not sloth, nor cat, nor wolf dare stir.

Above Teratornis meets the sky,

She, shared forbear of a condor son.

Her wings beat a lonely lullaby

For a world whose day is almost done.

published May issue 2021


Before us, and the California trails,

Before us, sea views to Appalachia,

Before birds, mammals, flies or snails,

Is Laramidia, uncarved by glacier.

In a golden state, with double shore,

Grazes the gentle Augustynolophus.

Comes then the ice, at last the thaw,

Dire wolves, sabred cats, predate us.

Now on this still fragile, moving land,

Where we brave our many homes,

We dance, undulating, on dunes of sand

Milled from the churning of rock and bones.

published April issue 2021


Before us, a molten lava flow,

Before origin tales of floods or ark,

Before science ordered what we know,

Was flare and blaze, heat and spark.

Seething, carving, hot and slow,

Fissures ooze, make magma kindle.

Forests, plants, pressed far below

Rise as tarpits and commingle.

Afraid, then brave, against the cold,

The light and shadow of the fire

Gave ancestors an elemental hold,

Fuelling mastery through desire.

published June issue  2021

- the years of settlement -


Swell, swell, swell – across a night marine.

Use silhouettes of tankers as a trickster screen.

(Pipes that suck cool water flow

Mask lost Norsemen far below.)


Mix, mix, mix – mortar, lime and stone.

Concrete line the rivers that all the fish disown.

(Run-off sewers dry the streets

As surface water soon depletes.)


Drink, drink, drink – the thirst that has no end.

Let house, pool, and fashion follow every trend.

(Above, the urban life occurs.

Below, exhausted aquifers.)

published July issue  2021

AIR 2.

Breathe, breathe, breathe, scent of surf and sea,

Sniff out the sweet aroma of waste and used pee.

(Lakes of sewage grow and seep

Day and night as we sleep.)


Gasp, gasp, gasp, chests tight as we exhale,

See the jet above leave its wooly, white contrail.

(Lift eyes upward toward the sky.

Watch our future flying by.)


Sigh, sigh, sigh, for all the songs unsung,

Lament oil vapour as it tars our tender lungs.

(For indeed while we sleep

Somewhere our earth does softly weep.)

published September issue  2021


Dig, dig, dig – along the alluvial plain.

Irrigate our salad crops instead of using rain.

(The harvest eats up the ground

And not the other way around.)


Bash, bash, bash, Main Street takes its shape.

Make of brick and timber a shiny new landscape.

(Feet press down as we pass,

On memorial plaques, not on grass.)


Touch, touch, touch, poppy and fan-palm,

Draw a mirage world, sketching shaky calm.

(For, despite a built environment,

Quakes themselves do not relent.)

published August issue  2021


Fan, fan, fan, flames of what divides

Lies forge and keep the sham of rival sides

(Religions may tell us we are one

yet everywhere we are undone.)


Spark, spark, spark, the crackle of dissent

Let's misread and slander every word's intent.

(Play with inference, or imply,

While Truth itself slides gloating by.)


Sweep, sweep, sweep, ash of common dreams.

Dumped dry and grey, a waste of spent regimes.

(But dust to dust in the end

Makes of all of us a common blend.)

published October issue  2021

- a future vision -


Sixty percent water you and I.

Three days without it and we die.

Clear drops that wash from streams to seas,

Clear drops that fall from clouds on trees.


Water profound, below the ground,

First dinosaurs then Ancients found.

A natural mirror reflects our world,

Bathes the seeds within us curled.


The well of all we hope to be

Is soaked by sap that makes us free.

What thirst, what dust, let it restore us,

Its essential care now set before us.

published November issue  2021

AIR 3.

Sixty-five percent oxygen is the human,

Fuelled by gas we can illumine

A way ahead. We have the gift

To change our path and uplift.


Air, first among the basic four,

Beyond water, earth, fire, we soar.

The breath of life, the pump of lung

The power of every song unsung.


Our finest selves, the coiling spring,

That ascend, inspired, and take wing.

Flight of mind, our own dawn chorus,

Gives hope to the tasks, before us.

published January issue  2022


Twelve percent carbon, you and me,

An heroic atom, a vital key –

The root of diamond and of coal

The depth and sparkle of soul.


Earth that underpins our might,

Upon which we stage each savage fight,

Where we explode ideas and bombs,

Scatter wilful death devoid of qualms.


Without Earth, our one true foundation,

There is no ownership or nation.

All argument we make is porous

If we fail to grasp Earth's Truth, before us.

published December issue  2021


Two thousand watts if we run

Is our energy bursts' total sum.

At rest, as when tigers sleep,

A gentle kindling is just skin-deep.


Fire burns in us, both light and shade,

Elemental in its hues' parade.

The red, the green, the orange glow,

Can destroy, yet clear, space to grow.


This town, rooted here can dare

Its borders of water, oil-fire and air.

Can hear future voices that implore us,

To meet challenges that lie before us.

published February issue  2022

bottom of page