Still Mooning

THE MOON FROM HERE
—Colette Jonopulos, Eugene

sweet globe of sugar
edges eaten away

spun by some unlikely
god, female, dressed

in blue like Mary
crystals on her apron

the creation larger
than even she estimated

and dark on one side
like anything worth

tasting, like what you’d
take in your mouth

expectantly, the whole
of it slowly dissolved

_______________________

Thanks, Colette! Click on the Tiger's Eye link (to the right) to see what's up with The Tiger (A Journal of Poetry). Colette will receive a free copy of Todd Cirillo's new rattlechap, Everybody Knows the Dice Are Loaded, to be released next Weds., May 10. Send me one of your moon poems (kathykieth@hotmail.com) by midnight on Friday and receive your own copy of Todd's book—before it comes out, even! Such a deal!

Two items to add to this week's calendar:

•••Tomorrow night (Thurs., 5/4), Rattlechappers Susan Kelly-DeWitt and Danyen Powell will read in San Francisco at the Main Library (Larkin St.) with Bei Dao and Ilya Kaminsky, 6 pm.

•••Sunday (5/7): Families, couples, individuals—all are welcome this coming Sunday at 6 pm to create artistic postcards at the last PoemSpirits gathering until October. The current Sacramento Poet Laureate Julia Connor is the feature, followed by this fun creative activity—one of two dozen workshops being held in April, May and June as part of the mail-art project, Think Postcards. (More info on this project can be found at http://www.sacculture.com/grants_poet.htm,website of the Sacramento Arts Commission.) PoemSpirits will provide postcards, stamps and other materials and tools; you are invited to bring personal mementos, lists, scraps, found items, etc., as you wish, to add to your creation. They will meet in the Lounge/Foyer of the Unitarian Universalist Society of Sacramento, 2425 Sierra Blvd., Sac. (2 blocks north of Fair Oaks Blvd, between Howe and Fulton Avenues). No fee. Snacks available. All welcome. Info: Tom Goff or Nora Staklis, 916-481-3312; or JoAnn Anglin, 916-451-1372.

In other news: Go online at www.AlamedaCountyFair.com to get information about poetry entries for the Alameda County Fair, which are beautifully displayed. (First, locate the "Exhibit Calalogue" and then check the "Fine Arts" section.) Applications to enter your poetry must be submitted to the fair by May 13th. Blanche Abrams is coordinating the poetry for the Fair this year; questions may be directed to her at blancheabrams@sbcglobal.net after 5/11. You must be a California resident to enter, and at least 18 years of age.

Deadline for Snake 10 is the 15th. Taylor Graham tells me that she received several "Time" poems yesterday, and she reminds folks to keep responding to her Snake 9 challenge for poems about "time"—ones that play with time, or manipulate it. Less than 26 lines, please, and send them to piper@innercite.com or to Graham, Box 39, Somerset, CA 95684. Please put "Fun Poetry" on the subject line or envelope.

Meanwhile, I have two VYPERS on my desk which I shall shoo out the door in time for the May 10 reading at The Book Collector. Come hear Todd Cirillo and Song Kowbell release their books that night, plus receive free VYPERS and Rhony Bhopla's new littlesnake broadside, Tulip Stem. More about all these, soon.

More moonshine, this time from Tim Kahl. Fasten your seatbelts..........

THE ASSEMBLAGE OF THE MOON
—Tim Kahl, Sacramento

The assemblage of the moon begins with the ascent
from a high cloud, the toppled marble of Athena’s temple
in tow. Tool talk among the laborers quickly gets serious;
the engineers grow restless calculating positive energy flow.
They endlessly debate its capture. First of all, they stress,
the dragon hide must be stretched over the bamboo cage.
From the sacred peaks of the Andes comes rockfall and
stacks of sacrifice bundles left for Illimani. Dead coral can be
substituted for bone, serving as fence and flagpole.
Pipes dribble the milky white brood of the ant queen into
the lunar seas. Wires are run for the networks to broadcast
the greatest hits of apes in entertainment. An old miner
whose son had left to follow his moonlight muse
charged the heat of the surface would prove
the rumbling of a wicked attitude below. Those dead lakes
shining in the backwash of the sun, like the dead birds
he had seen in Spokane. The moon had become more parts woman,
fewer parts man. The jungle tribes called it Mother of Grasses.
They cared less if it were made of fat or cheese.
The sky disk could reveal the way home for cranes,
gone so long since the smoke of wood fires blackening winter skies
over medieval cities led them astray. But where is all
the missing carbon released into the atmosphere since then?
A class of specialists might descend into the tunnels of the moon
to retrieve it all. A single man could go down there to repair what
he’s seen, the mysterious beat of the moon’s heart, almost bursting.
Man has built it, fallen in love with it to the extreme,
enough to let himself be deceived by what he’s done, this,
his embarrassment after orgasm.

Thanks, Tim!

________________________

—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.)