Photo by Stephani Schaefer, Los Molinos
SPRING
—Pablo Neruda
The bird has come
to bring light to birth.
From every trill of his,
water is born.
And between water and light which unwind the air,
now the spring is inaugurated,
now the seed is aware of its own growing;
the root takes shape in the corolla,
at last the eyelids of the pollen open.
All this accomplished by a simple bird
from his perch on a green branch.
(translated by Alastair Reid)
—Pablo Neruda
The bird has come
to bring light to birth.
From every trill of his,
water is born.
And between water and light which unwind the air,
now the spring is inaugurated,
now the seed is aware of its own growing;
the root takes shape in the corolla,
at last the eyelids of the pollen open.
All this accomplished by a simple bird
from his perch on a green branch.
(translated by Alastair Reid)
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This week in NorCal poetry:
•••Tonight (Monday, 5/5), 7:30 PM: Sacramento Poetry Center presents an open mic for Cinco de Mayo. HQ for the Arts, 25th & R Sts., Sacramento.
•••Thursday (5/8), 8 PM: Poetry Unplugged at Luna's Cafe, 1414 16th St., Sacramento. Open mic before and after.
•••Sat. (5/10), 8 PM: Canadian duo Allison Russell and Awna Teixeira mix poetry with jazz, gypsy, folk, punk and Cajun music. Sutter Creek Theater, 44 Main St., Sutter Creek. $18 advance, $20 day of show. 209-267-1070.
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ODE TO IRONING
—Pablo Neruda
Poetry is white:
it leaves the water wrapped in drops,
it wrinkles and piles up,
the skin of this planet has to be spread out,
the pure whiteness of the sea must be ironed,
and the hands go on and on,
the sacred surfaces are smoothed,
and that's how things are made:
each day hands make the world,
fire joins steel,
the linen, fabric, and cotten cloth arrive
from the combat of the laundries,
and a dove is born out of the light:
chastity returns from the foam.
(translated by Mark Eisner)
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BREAD POETRY
—Pablo Neruda
Poetry, my starstruck patrimony.
It was necessary
to go on discovering, hungry, with no one to guide me,
your earthy endowment,
light of the moon and the secret wheat.
Between solitude and crowds, the key
kept getting lost in streets and in the woods,
under stones, in trains.
The first sign is a state of darkness,
deep rapture in a glass of water,
body stuffed without having eaten,
heart a beggar in its pride.
Many things more that books don't mention,
stuffed as they are with joyless splendor:
to go on chipping at a weary stone,
to go on dissolving the iron in the soul
until you become the person who is reading,
until water finds a voice through your mouth.
And that is easier than tomorrow being Thursday
and yet more difficult than to go on being born—
a strange vocation that seeks you out,
and which goes into hiding when we seek it out,
a shadow with a broken roof
and stars shining through its holes.
(translated by Alastair Reid)
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TIDES
—Pablo Neruda
I grew up drenched in natural waters
like the mollusk in the phosporous sea.
In me the crusty salt resounded
and formed my singular skeleton.
How to explain—almost without
the blue and bitter rhythm of breathing,
one by one the waves repeated
what I sensed and trembled with
until salt and spray formed me:
the wave's rejection and desire,
the green rhythm which at its most secret
raised up a transparent tower.
It kept that secret and all at once
I felt that I was beating with it,
that my song was growing with the water.
(translated by Alastair Reid)
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ARS MAGNETICA
—Pablo Neruda
From so much loving and journeying, books emerge.
And if they don't contain kisses or landscapes,
if they don't contain a man with his hands full,
if they don't contain a woman in every drop,
hunger, desire, anger, roads,
they are no use as a shield or as a bell:
they have no eyes, and won't be able to open them,
they have the dead sound of precepts.
I loved the entanglings of genitals,
and out of blood and love I carved my poems.
In hard earth I brought a rose to flower,
fought over by fire and dew.
That's how I could keep on singing.
(translated by Alastair Reid)
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Today's LittleNip:
He writes so well he makes me feel like putting my quill back in my goose.
—Fred Allen
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Medusa
MEDUSA'S WEEKLY MENU:
(Contributors are welcome to cook something up for any and all of these!)
Monday: Weekly NorCal poetry calendar
Tuesday: Seed of the Week: Tuesday is Medusa's day to post poetry triggers such as quotes, forms, photos, memories, jokes—whatever might tickle somebody's muse. Pick up the gauntlet and send in your poetic results; and don't be shy about sending in your own triggers, too! All poems will be posted and a few of them will go into Medusa's Corner of each Rattlesnake Review. Send your work to kathykieth@hotmail.com or P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. No deadline for SOW; respond today, tomorrow, or whenever the muse arrives. (Print 'em out, maybe, save 'em for a dry spell?) When you send us work, though, just let us know which "seed" it was that inspired you.
Wednesday: HandyStuff Quickies: Resources for the poet, including whatever helps ease the pain of writing and/or publishing. Favorite journals to read and/or submit to; books, etc., about writing; organizational tools—you know—HandyStuff! Tell us about your favorite tools.
Thursday: B.L.'s Drive-Bys: Micro-reviews by our irreverent Reviewer-in-Residence, B.L. Kennedy. Send books, CDs, DVDs, etc. to him for possible review (either as a Drive-By or in Rattlesnake Review) at P.O. Box 160664, Sacramento, CA 95816.
Friday: NorCal weekend poetry calendar
Daily (except Sunday): LittleNips: SnakeFood for the Poetic Soul: Daily munchables for poetic thought, including short paragraphs, quotes, wonky words, silliness, little-known poetry/poet facts, and other inspiration—yet another way to feed our ever-hungry poetic souls.
And poetry! Every day, poetry from writers near and far! The Snakes of Medusa are always hungry.......!
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SNAKEWATCH: NEWS FROM RATTLESNAKE PRESS
Coming May 14: Join us on Wednesday, May 14 for the release of Among Summer Pines by Quinton Duval; a littlesnake broadside, Before Naming, by Stephani Schaefer; and Volume Three of Conversations, our third book of interviews by B.L. Kennedy, featuring Art Beck, Olivia Costellano, Quinton Duval, William S. Gainer, Mario Ellis Hill, Kathryn Hohlwein, James Jee Jobe, Andy Jones, Rebecca Morrison and Phillip T. Nails. That's at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sacramento, 7:30 PM.
Also in May: Deadline for Issue #18 of Rattlesnake Review is May 15. Free copies of Issue #17 are available at The Book Collector, or send me two bux and I'll mail you one.
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). And be sure to sign up for Snakebytes, our monthly e-newsletter that will keep you up-to-date on all our ophidian chicanery.
