Photo by Stephani Schaefer, Los Molinos
NICO
—dawn dibartolo, mather
there’s an idler
at my train station every morning
who wishes us workers well,
off to our brand of imprisonment.
jovial, kind, philosophical type
who told me i was beautiful
one day when i needed to hear it.
since that day, he goes out of his way
to bless me for the bars & guards ahead.
being of the long afternoon shadows,
i cordially oblige the intrusion
to my daily ritual of brooding,
meaning well, but too lost in whispers
to offer voice. and i wonder things like
selfish? oblique? insipid? snob?
freak? is my heart finally
gone to gravel, smaller pieces
stolen by the wind? what has become
of full-moon smiles and
eyes that sparkled like the
sun-kissed Euphrates?
am i so buried
beneath the constant roll of
waves that grace and corner
the horizon, connected by
proximity and touch to
air, shore, sun, toes, and laughter?
nico sees me drowning, i believe,
and offers little more than surface, now.
i regret the glooming, begrudge the
slipping sun that has fallen
from the sky of his face,
each of us, possibly,
judging the other for a
darkness neither understands.
—dawn dibartolo, mather
there’s an idler
at my train station every morning
who wishes us workers well,
off to our brand of imprisonment.
jovial, kind, philosophical type
who told me i was beautiful
one day when i needed to hear it.
since that day, he goes out of his way
to bless me for the bars & guards ahead.
being of the long afternoon shadows,
i cordially oblige the intrusion
to my daily ritual of brooding,
meaning well, but too lost in whispers
to offer voice. and i wonder things like
selfish? oblique? insipid? snob?
freak? is my heart finally
gone to gravel, smaller pieces
stolen by the wind? what has become
of full-moon smiles and
eyes that sparkled like the
sun-kissed Euphrates?
am i so buried
beneath the constant roll of
waves that grace and corner
the horizon, connected by
proximity and touch to
air, shore, sun, toes, and laughter?
nico sees me drowning, i believe,
and offers little more than surface, now.
i regret the glooming, begrudge the
slipping sun that has fallen
from the sky of his face,
each of us, possibly,
judging the other for a
darkness neither understands.
Thanks to dawn dibartolo, Stephani Schaefer, Bill Gainer and Emmanual Segauke for today's poetry and art. All four are regular contributors to Rattlesnake Review; watch for more of their work in Issue #19, due out in mid-September. And get your own work in; deadline is August 15! Yikes—just four more days!
The Eyes have it…
The Centrifugal Eye is a snappy online journal with the perspicacity to feature an interview with our columnist and poet extraordinaire, Taylor Graham, in their August/Summer 2008 issue. That’s http://centrifugaleye.com/.
It all started in Majorca…
Lyn Lifshin, another poet who appears regularly in Rattlesnake Review, sent me several poems based on “It all started”, so let’s use that for the Seed of the Week. Here are some possible beginnings; use your own or one (or more) of these:
It all started in…
It all started when I…
It all started to drive me nuts…
It all started long before…
It all started as soon as…
It all started crashing down around me…
It all started simply enough…
It all started to be…
It all started to unravel…
Here's Bill Gainer's response to one of our SOW's of the past: SEX, plus another "bonus" poem. Remember, there's no deadline on any seed of the week:
WRITING EROTICA—
THE WEEK OF 6-23
—William S. Gainer, Grass Valley
Friday’s poem
hasn’t come
yet...
___________________
HOW IT STARTED
—William S. Gainer
Three black nickels
and a rusty quarter,
she said it was a sign,
told you to keep them
hidden—
that it could
mean something.
You add a new dime,
buy a paper,
shuffled through to your
horoscope.
All it says is,
"You should
have listened."
___________________
SOPHIA
—dawn dibartolo
i’m learning
so many new things
that the old things
are spilling out of my ears.
like yesterday at the bank,
the lady asked for my account number
and i told her my name,
which i had forgotten
at some point earlier
in the day; but
no matter, just call me
sophia, for now,
and i’ll make up a new “history”
as i move forward,
infinitely better
than the past i have forgotten.
i read today, however,
that the past has a way
of crapping into the present,
and one must adjust to the task
of cleaning it up, whether it’s
your own crap, or something someone else
has left for you. dawn…
hey, that’s my name…
is full of shitty-brown experiences
that have left me
anything but relieved;
sophia sounds more sepia ~
romantic hues shading what is
with what i’d hoped it would be;
and despite the funk,
whether or not i retain the odor
of each individual moment,
the experiences own and move me.
___________________
TO CAST SHADOWS
—dawn dibartolo
the nights are being stretched
with frigid autumn fingers,
and i find that
psalms of summer linger;
late, i’ve awakened to the rhythm…
so sudden,
have the stars shifted
to allow for colder themes ~
school bells and rain clouds
lurk in the distance,
and it seems i’ve just
remembered… longingly
~ my solstice skin.
dawn is calling
later for the sun
and she comes because
time always waits.
wish i were
as coveted by day…
___________________
Today's LittleNip:
ON WHY ZIMBABWEANS DON'T RIOT
—Emmanuel Sigauke, Sacramento
Once mired in war
some people lose
everything and settle
on the conviction that
what's put before them
is just fine
as long as it's not war.
_________________
—Medusa
SnakeWatch: What's Up With Rattlesnake Press
The Snake will be snoozing through July and August, leaving Medusa to carry on alone. Then on September 10, we shall burst back onto the scene with Thirteen Poems, a new chapbook from Patrick Grizzell; #2 in Katy Brown's series of blank journals (Musings2: Vices, Virtues and Obsessions); a littlesnake broadside (Wind Physics) from Jordan Reynolds; plus Issue #19 of Rattlesnake Review (deadline is August 15). Meanwhile, look in on Medusa every day, and, for heaven's sake, keep sending stuff! The snakes of Medusa are always hungry...
Medusa's Weekly Menu:
(Contributors are welcome to cook up something 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 (sometimes): 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 future issues of 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 ravenous poetic souls.
And poetry! Every day, poetry from writers near and far! The Snakes of Medusa are always hungry.......!
_________________
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.
