FUTILITY
—Wilfred Owen
Move him into the sun—
Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields unsown.
Always it woke him, even in France,
Until this morning and this snow.
If anything might rouse him now
The kind old sun will know.
Think how it wakes the seeds—
Woke, once, the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides,
Full-nerved—still warm—too hard to stir?
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
—O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
To break earth's sleep at all?
_________________
Today would've been Wilfred Owen's 113 birthday, had he not been tragically killed in war. In his preface to the collection of his poems that included "Futility," he wrote: "Above all I am not concerned with Poetry. My subject is War, and the pity of War. The poetry is in the pity. Yet these elegies are to this generation in no sense consolatory. They may be to the next. All a poet can do today is warn. That is why the true Poets must be truthful..."
Speaking of war, the Snake 9-wrassling continues, hampered by the hacking and honking that accompanies my chest cold. I'm starting to get letters—where the hell's that Snake-varmint? I think people suspect we've hijacked their poems, with no intention of ever publishing them at all! Put your minds to rest; the Snake will emerge. He's just having a little trouble slithering out of hibernation this cold, cold spring...
Meanwhile, Richard Hansen writes: Friends, The Poems-For-All exhibition continues through the end of the month. If you'd like to come take a look this weekend at the many (over 500) covers for books in the series, the gallery will be open from 12 to 4 pm on both Saturday and Sunday. Asylum Gallery | PFA exhibition | 25th & R Streets, Sacramento. Plenty of free poems-for-all chaplets to take away.
Tonight (3/18), Bob Stanley and Larry Uklai Johnson-Redd appear at Underground Books, 2814 35th St., Sac., 7 pm. Info: 916-737-3333. Or...
Also today, travel to Modesto for a poetry reading featuring Licensed Fools at Mistlin Gallery on J St. (between 10th and 11th) in Modesto, 4 pm. See Medusa's Monday post for more details.
And tonight (3/18), 7-9 pm, travel to Palo Alto to hear The Straight Out Scribes Experience: poetry, spoken word and conscious rap, featuring V.S. Chochezi and Staajabu, 910 Moreno Avenue, Palo Alto. Donations will be gratefully accepted to support the legal case of Mumia Abu-Jamal. Info: 916-452-1290.
Stephenie VanCamp Jones sends us two poems:
BRIEF WONDERLAND
—Stephenie VanCamp Jones, Pilot Hill
—Wilfred Owen
Move him into the sun—
Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields unsown.
Always it woke him, even in France,
Until this morning and this snow.
If anything might rouse him now
The kind old sun will know.
Think how it wakes the seeds—
Woke, once, the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides,
Full-nerved—still warm—too hard to stir?
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
—O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
To break earth's sleep at all?
_________________
Today would've been Wilfred Owen's 113 birthday, had he not been tragically killed in war. In his preface to the collection of his poems that included "Futility," he wrote: "Above all I am not concerned with Poetry. My subject is War, and the pity of War. The poetry is in the pity. Yet these elegies are to this generation in no sense consolatory. They may be to the next. All a poet can do today is warn. That is why the true Poets must be truthful..."
Speaking of war, the Snake 9-wrassling continues, hampered by the hacking and honking that accompanies my chest cold. I'm starting to get letters—where the hell's that Snake-varmint? I think people suspect we've hijacked their poems, with no intention of ever publishing them at all! Put your minds to rest; the Snake will emerge. He's just having a little trouble slithering out of hibernation this cold, cold spring...
Meanwhile, Richard Hansen writes: Friends, The Poems-For-All exhibition continues through the end of the month. If you'd like to come take a look this weekend at the many (over 500) covers for books in the series, the gallery will be open from 12 to 4 pm on both Saturday and Sunday. Asylum Gallery | PFA exhibition | 25th & R Streets, Sacramento. Plenty of free poems-for-all chaplets to take away.
Tonight (3/18), Bob Stanley and Larry Uklai Johnson-Redd appear at Underground Books, 2814 35th St., Sac., 7 pm. Info: 916-737-3333. Or...
Also today, travel to Modesto for a poetry reading featuring Licensed Fools at Mistlin Gallery on J St. (between 10th and 11th) in Modesto, 4 pm. See Medusa's Monday post for more details.
And tonight (3/18), 7-9 pm, travel to Palo Alto to hear The Straight Out Scribes Experience: poetry, spoken word and conscious rap, featuring V.S. Chochezi and Staajabu, 910 Moreno Avenue, Palo Alto. Donations will be gratefully accepted to support the legal case of Mumia Abu-Jamal. Info: 916-452-1290.
Stephenie VanCamp Jones sends us two poems:
BRIEF WONDERLAND
—Stephenie VanCamp Jones, Pilot Hill
Even if only
for a blink of an eye,
she stared with childlike wonder
at the majestic trees
dusted with snow.
What looked like sugar,
tasted of ice.
For a few brief moments
the yard was a wonderland
and time stood still.
for a blink of an eye,
she stared with childlike wonder
at the majestic trees
dusted with snow.
What looked like sugar,
tasted of ice.
For a few brief moments
the yard was a wonderland
and time stood still.
___________________________
As I stand here
spectacular
I stare up at the nighttime sky,
the constellations consume me.
I can't help but wonder
who else may be watching
the same evening canvas
spread out before the world's eyes.
Could you and I
currently gaze at the spectacular halo
that surrounds the silver moon
and imagine the sailor's delight
the very next morning.
the constellations consume me.
I can't help but wonder
who else may be watching
the same evening canvas
spread out before the world's eyes.
Could you and I
currently gaze at the spectacular halo
that surrounds the silver moon
and imagine the sailor's delight
the very next morning.
Could you and I
trace the same stars
with our index finger, and leave behind
smudge trails on the frosty window
that stands between us and the
horizon far away.
Could you and I
make the same wish, right now and
wish for the same wish
without words?
—Stephenie VanCamp Jones, Pilot Hill
_____________________
Thanks, Stephenie!
—Medusa (who's even snottier than usual—hack hack paTOOOOie...)
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.)
