The Shock of Minor Changes

Taylor Graham writes: Loved Homer Christensen's poem [see yesterday's post]. It got me going, writing that is. Medusa may be up to the gorge in election and not even want to think about it [today], but she can have this one if she wants:

AFTER ELECTION
—Taylor Graham, Somerset

I stood in line early
to cast my hopes into an eyeless box.

Back home, in the field we keep trying
to reclaim from thicket, I pull up
manzanita sprouts, one after another,
toss them in a pile for burning.

I’ll do this again in two
years, four years, six. They always
come back—the same shoots or new
ones from an old bad root.

In our field, November is greening
the annual grasses. I can hope.

_______________________

Thanks, TG! At least the ads will be over, now...

Tonight:

•••Weds. (11/8), 7:30 PM: Rattlesnake Press presents Jane Blue at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sacramento to celebrate the release of her new poetry chapbook, Turf Daisies and Dandelions. Also premiering that night will be a littlesnake broadside, Connections, from Cleo Fellers Kocol. Refreshments and a read-around will follow; bring your own poems or somebody else's. Be there!

•••Also tonight, 10-midnight: After the rattle-read, head over to Mics and Moods at Capitol Garage, 1500 K St., Sac. Info: 916-492-9336.

•••Also tonight (11/8), 8 PM: Or bag it all and go over to Davis: The Second Wednesday Reading Series of the MA program at UC-Davis presents the poetry and fiction of writers Michael Clearwater and Reema Rajbanshi. Café Roma (3rd & University Sts., downtown Davis).


Poets Lane News from Cynthia Bryant:

A short update on The Gift of Words: Poems for the Iraqi People:

I have received poetry from fifteen of our fifty United States, one from a soldier in Iraq, one poet from Nigeria, Africa, and over 100 poets altogether. I have gotten poems from eight-year-old poets and poets in their eighties. The numbers grow every day and the poems get better every day. So send in your poem, and please don't forget to include your name/email, city, state, country (and age if you like). Send poems to: Gift of Words, c/o Cynthia Bryant, Poet Laureate of Pleasanton, PO Box 520, Pleasanton, CA 94566 or PoetsLane@comcast.net.

The deadline for the poems has been changed to May 2007, but the potluck/reading will be held on Sunday, December 3, 1-4 PM at Century House, 2401 Santa Rita Rd. (between Mohr and Stoneridge), Pleasanton. $5. Special guests, entertainment and Iraqi music will fill the afternoon along with the heartfelt poems written for the Iraqi People that will be read by local poets and in some cases by the poet who wrote the poem. Please bring your favorite food to share, and one wrapped (no Christmas wrapping, please) book of poetry, used or new to exchange in a special gift-giving event. There will be wonderful door prizes to be won as well. Beverages, eating utensils, napkins, plates and cups will all be provided.

Also: Poet’s Lane needs your poems for November! Anyone, any age, anywhere may submit poetry to PoetsLane@comcast.net for www.poetslane.com. The themes are Freedom, War and Giving Thanks. Send your poems to Cynthia at PoetsLane@comcast.net.

________________________

FASCICLE
—A.R. Ammons

There's a rift of days sunny (not too windy, not
too cold) between leaf- and snowfall when
raking works: away on a weekend, you could

miss it and rain could sog everything slick-flat
or gusts could leave no leaf not lifting
off the ground: stick

around the house, a big sheet ready, a strong-caned
rake strung tight, and catch the sun
just when it stills the air dry: that's likely

to be before some cold front frost-furring
the saw-edged leaves glistened brittle, clouds
tightening the horizon: then the white leaves fly.

_______________________

FIRST COLD
—A.R. Ammons

Well, the white asters
are wide open (there's
even a chicory
blossom ot two
left on a big weed)

but it's too cold
for the bees to come:
every now and then
a snowflake
streaks

out of the hanging gray,
winter's first whitening:
white on white let it be,
then, flake
to petal—to hold for a

minute or so: meanwhile,
golden bees are milling at
the door, to pour
out should that other
gold, the sun, break in.

_________________________

SENTIMENT
—A.R. Ammons

All things that live die but even
rivers dry up or roll
out of their beds and rising lands

sometimes remove seas and ranges
snow tops all year wear down eventually:
the earth, of course, itself came

into being and must in time be cindered:
think of the shock, though, meanwhile,
of the minor changes, a friend in an

accident, being late to your son's
soccer match, a leaning tree in a
yard an old house has moved away from.

_______________________

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, 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.)