A.D. Winans
SLEEPLESS IN SAN FRANCISCO
—A.D. Winans
I get up have a cup of coffee
Drive to Ocean Beach
It is early morning
No one is in sight except
A lonely seagull searching the
Water for breakfast
I sit down on the sand
Thinking of the past present
And future
Slices of my life plucked
From the soul
Playing my heart strings
Like a violin bow
I stare out at the ocean
Watching the seagulls
Spread their wings in flight
And for one brief moment the
Wind flickers off my eyelids
Like a butterfly's wings spread
Out across a flower
I slip in an image unconsciously
Like a thread through the
Eye of a needle
Listen to phantom voices
From the past
Hammered out like steel
Forged inside my head
My mind a volcano waiting
To explode
As part of my exiled youth
returns in bits and pieces
As I retreat back into myself
Shedding the years like a lone sailor
Charting his way back to the womb
___________________
Thanks, A.D.! A.D. Winans is a native San Francisco poet, writer and photographer. He is the former Editor and Publisher of Second Coming and the author of 45 books and chapbooks of poetry and prose. His work has appeared world-wide and has been translated into nine languages. In January 2006, Presa Press published a book of his Selected Poems (The Other Side Of Broaway). A song poem of his was set to music and performed at Tully Hall in New York City. He is the winner of a 2006 PEN Josephine Miles award for literary excellence. Check out his web site at www.adwinans.mysite.com/.
In addition to today's post, watch for more of Winans' poetry in Rattlesnake Review #16 (Sweet 16!), due out in mid-December. Get your poems, art and photography in NOW—the deadline is 11/15, a week from today! This issue will feature a spotlight on the Hardpan editors from Modesto, an article on Healing Poetry by Patricia Wellingham-Jones, "teaser" interviews of Joyce Odam, Jose Montoya and Terryl Wheat, plus plenty more, including our regular columnists and our new one: Shawn Pittard, whose column will concentrate on the dissemination of your poetry. (That's DISsemination, not INsemination...) Not to mention pages and pages and pages of poetry—and all of this for free!
—A.D. Winans
I get up have a cup of coffee
Drive to Ocean Beach
It is early morning
No one is in sight except
A lonely seagull searching the
Water for breakfast
I sit down on the sand
Thinking of the past present
And future
Slices of my life plucked
From the soul
Playing my heart strings
Like a violin bow
I stare out at the ocean
Watching the seagulls
Spread their wings in flight
And for one brief moment the
Wind flickers off my eyelids
Like a butterfly's wings spread
Out across a flower
I slip in an image unconsciously
Like a thread through the
Eye of a needle
Listen to phantom voices
From the past
Hammered out like steel
Forged inside my head
My mind a volcano waiting
To explode
As part of my exiled youth
returns in bits and pieces
As I retreat back into myself
Shedding the years like a lone sailor
Charting his way back to the womb
___________________
Thanks, A.D.! A.D. Winans is a native San Francisco poet, writer and photographer. He is the former Editor and Publisher of Second Coming and the author of 45 books and chapbooks of poetry and prose. His work has appeared world-wide and has been translated into nine languages. In January 2006, Presa Press published a book of his Selected Poems (The Other Side Of Broaway). A song poem of his was set to music and performed at Tully Hall in New York City. He is the winner of a 2006 PEN Josephine Miles award for literary excellence. Check out his web site at www.adwinans.mysite.com/.
In addition to today's post, watch for more of Winans' poetry in Rattlesnake Review #16 (Sweet 16!), due out in mid-December. Get your poems, art and photography in NOW—the deadline is 11/15, a week from today! This issue will feature a spotlight on the Hardpan editors from Modesto, an article on Healing Poetry by Patricia Wellingham-Jones, "teaser" interviews of Joyce Odam, Jose Montoya and Terryl Wheat, plus plenty more, including our regular columnists and our new one: Shawn Pittard, whose column will concentrate on the dissemination of your poetry. (That's DISsemination, not INsemination...) Not to mention pages and pages and pages of poetry—and all of this for free!
___________________
This just in:
Tonight (Weds., 11/7) at Bistro 33's Poetry Night, we will be celebrating the work of student-driven literary journals and collectives at UC Davis. Beginning at 9 PM, Andy Jones and Brad Henderson will be introducing editors and contributors to Produce, the Journal of Undergraduate Creative Writing at UC Davis; Nameless Magazine, a new online magazine that showcases the works of writers and visual artists within the undergraduate population at UC Davis, and Sickspits, the UC Davis Spoken Word Collective that electrifies crowds with its readings and performances on the first Tuesday of the month in Griffin Lounge (beginning at 7:30 PM).
Bistro 33 (226 F St. in Davis) has kindly set aside the banquet room for this showcase of local poets. Members of each organization will also have an opportunity to introduce themselves and to invite you to participate in upcoming publications and events. At the beginning of the evening, your hosts will be awarding books of poetry and complimentary appetizers to three randomly-chosen attendees, so try to arrive by 9.
_____________________
POEM FOR GRANDMOTHER
—A.D. Winans
A swirling mist blows through
My ears
Filling me with strange notions
And I remember my childhood
And how the devil demons invaded
My head
Chasing mad dinosaurs through
Dark alleys
Pausing to drink from
My thirsty lips
All knowledge passed
On down to me
By well-meaning parents
Who insisted that dinosaurs
Didn't exist
Grandmother was eaten alive
By one
She knew what
I meant
____________________
I REMEMBER STILL
—A.D. Winans
I remember still how wonderful it was
running to join each other's dreams
sharing our separate worlds of hope
in rooms of music where angels lay
I remember your doll house dreams
your lips colored with flowers
my hands tracing the valleys of heaven
and finding them within your silent curves
it was a work of abstract art
a garden of unsurpassed beauty
I became God himself
and having you
I did not need a son
____________________
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their POETRY, PHOTOS and ART, as well as announcements of Northern California poetry events, to kathykieth@hotmail.com (or snail ‘em to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726) 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.) Medusa cannot vouch for the moral fiber of other publications, contests, etc. that she lists, however, so submit to them at your own risk. For more info about the Snake Empire, including guidelines for submitting to or obtaining our publications, click on the link to the right of this column: Rattlesnake Press (rattlesnakepress.com).
SnakeWatch: Up-to-the-minute Snake news:
Journals: The latest issue of Rattlesnake Review (#15) is available for free at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sacramento, or send $2 to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 9572V6. Next deadline is November 15—yikes! That's just a week away!
Coming in November: The Snake is proud to announce the release of Among Neighbors, a rattlechap from Taylor Graham; Home is Where You Hang Your Wings, a littlesnake broadside from frank andrick; and A Poet's Book of Days, a perpetual calendar featuring the poetry and photography of Katy Brown. Come celebrate all of these on Wednesday, November 14, 7:30 PM at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sacramento.
