More Quickies from Archie

TRYST
—A.R. Ammons

I'm to go see you tonight:
birds that know where to fly
are loose under my ribs:

your eyes fly here to my mind's
eye: I dwell in them:
what if I'm frozen

when I see you: what if I burn
completely up: the birds
may break out and go

too soon; or, too bad
if my self flies to you
early, and I can't follow.

_______________________

I'm to go see Jeanine Stevens tonight. What's a keeping room? This was a term that was new to this California girl until Jeanine introduced me to it, but then last week I saw it on an HGTV show. Come to Jeanine's reading tonight at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sac., 7:30 pm and find out about The Keeping Room.

The latest issue of Senior Magazine is out, with another stellar "Poetry Corner" column by Laverne Frith and Joyce Odam. This month, they talk about "Considering the Cost of Poetry", about how to save money on your poetry endeavors. (It's cheaper'n bowling, I always say!) Pick up a free copy of SM at over 800 locations, including libraries; call 916-972-7260 (X205) for a location near you.

Speaking of the Friths, the "Late 2005" issue of New York journal Medicinal Purposes, which is also their tenth anniversary issue, features our Friths as its Centerpiece Poets! There is a stunning five-page article about them, along with a nice sampling of their poetry, and even a picture!. Medicinal Purposes Literary Review, edited by Robert Dunn, is a dandy journal that you should be submitting to and subscribing to: 75-05 210th St., #6N, Bayside, NY 11364. (dunnmiracle@juno.com)

_______________________

STILL FRAME
—A.R. Ammons

The wind played
down frost-still

sunrise brings three
crows
into the nearly

empty sugar
maple, their

pitching and flapping
jarring a touch of gold leaves loose
that

sprinkles down as if
picked by a breeze.

________________________

CATCH
—A.R. Ammons

Near dusk: approaching
my house, I see
over the roof

the quartermoon
and, aiming, walk it
down my chimney flue.

______________________

NIGHT CHILL
—A.R. Ammons

My big round yew
can stand a gust
into a million
presences: too
many needles
to get through
to get through
except drift through:
birds in there peep and sleep
puffy in the slow hurry.

_______________________

Today is Sam the Snake Man Kieth's birthday: Send him greetings at ibeforee@comcast.net.

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)