The Voice of Don Feliz

Sacramento poet DON FELIZ is featured on littlesnake broadside #12, Switchback Path, which is being released today. The littlesnake broadside series is a monthly Snake publication that features one poet at a time in a pamphlet format. Pick one up free here&there. Herewith is a sample:

FATHER AND SON, SWITCHBACK PATH
by Don Feliz

steep as a ski slope
the old trail is
dirty and dangerous

we stretch string lines
carve with
pick and shovel

bear buckets
of gravel
spread it

between
stone borders
down to our mailbox

That's all for today; I'm busy typing Snake 6.

Medusa

You With Your Feathered Scales

In case you missed it, Sac Bee Metro section had a big article yesterday (5/29) about Sac poet and reed man Gene Avery; check it out. Every inch of space that poetry gets in The Bee is—well, another inch of space...

Meanwhile, I'm typing Snake 6, who will be slamming out of his den in time for the Zeppa reading June 8 (a week from Wednesday) at The Book Collector. This issue is bursting at the seams with poems about snakes, as the last gaggle of poets slips under the wire for the Fangs I deadline. Here is one heckuva fine sample from our lovely Carol Frith. Look up Quetzal on the Net, admire his beautiful tail:

Quetzal
by Carol Frith

A snake? I've forgotten how to write
a serpent. Quetzal, with your feathered scales
and brother to the moon? A god, not quite
a snake. And I've forgotten how to write
about the moon, who slept with you, her light
a memory that all light somehow fails.
Bright snake, I've forgotten how to write
about you...Quetzal with your feathered scales.


(First person to identify the form of "Quetzal", either by e-mail or otherwise, gets a free copy of debee loyd's new rattlechap, noon, twilight, midnight.)

Manana—

Medusa (aka the Wrangler)

Bookmark this!

The Snake says Welcome! to the new snakeblog from Rattlesnake Press. Watch this spot for daily postings of poetry, No. Cal. poetry happenings and other juiciness from the Snakepit and beyond. Friends, enemies and just-plain-rubberneckers are invited to partake and reply—and poetry will be posted and changed without warning every 2-5 days—so if you want to see your poem cooking along in Medusa's Kitchen, you'll have to keep checking. Here's an hors d'oeuvre from Shinkichi Takahashi, which is also printed on a Rattlesnake Press bookmark:

HAND

I stretch my hand—
everything disappears.

I saw in the snake-head
my dead mother's face,

in ragged clouds
grief of my dead father.

Snap my fingers—
time's no more.

My hand's the universe.
It can do anything.

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So send stuff to kathykieth@hotmail.com—or shortcut by clicking on the envelope below.

Ciao—

Medusa (who has all those snakes springing from her head...)