Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Disappearing Ink

Photo by Ann Privateer, Davis

—charles mariano, sacramento

Miss Hernandez
was her name,
3rd grade teacher
Galen Clark Elementary

she, of the stifling,
confusing urges

i was eight,
barely there

she’d come down
those halls
shapely body
stiletto heels
tap, tapping
long, lean legs,
black hair,
gold hoop earrings,
dazzling red lips

when she walked by,
i desperately
hugged the wall
held my breath

she sent a note
through a cousin,
the occasion of my
high school reunion,
regarding a story
i’d written

“aaahhh, Miss Hernandez,”
i remembered dreamily
a lifetime ago,

“first love”


Thanks, Charles, and thanks to the rest of today's contributors. We're talking about Fleeting Moments this week (but gosh and golly—they're all fleeting moments, yes?). Anyway, send some of your thoughts on fleeting moments or anything else to or P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. No deadlines on our Seeds of the Week; some of you are still dreaming of last week's spiders and their webs, and that's perfectly A-OK...

Tom Goff was moved by the recent passing of Jack Herrera to use the SOW as a bit of a tribute:


—Tom Goff, Carmichael

for Be Herrera and in memoriam Jack Herrera

You coupled sculpture and the saxophone.
Many poetry enterprises flourished.
Monotone was not your scheme of things,

but artistry blended, the sheerest fleeting wings
nourished and taught to glide the sharp sunlight.
You, saxophone couple, crafted musical sculpture,

sculptural music. Call it Kodachrome?
Right, yet not quite right, for your mighty colors,
To term your color theme: surely not monotone.

Not Cinemascope, but—much better—vibrascope!
Keller, Helen, invented the term, and that,
love nurtured with a touch of savagery,

was what leapt out your belling saxophone,
why, still leaps out when you craft metalwork;
sparks fly, these, not just from saxophone or sculpture,

but from the living, brooding, loving person.
The vibrascope-human nourishes potential.
Monotony, not (nor ever shall be) your theme.
Your sculpture, your saxophone, your poetry: one couple.


What if E.B. White's spider, Charlotte
had instead met Orwell's pig Napoleon (from Animal Farm):
"What's this writing about me in your webs:
"some pig", "terrific", "radiant", and "humble"?
"You humor me Charlotte
But ah how do I know you'll not also ‘Snowball’ me
while pretending to be my minister of propaganda?”
"No Napoleon dear sir,
I plead for your mercy!
I'm trying my best to serve this brave new farm
For you, I've exhausted my spinnerets
because I told you I love and admire pigs
Pigs are clearly the superior species
who guide us to be truly "free"
and have the best plan for spiders—
So much so, I've sworn over to you my children
to show all the spiders of the world
what spiders ought to be—
To be lead as one rather than being on their own…"
"Ha ha, no, Charlotte
my immortality is secure
You'll be the one gone and forgotten
But it seems you don't have any will to just leave
though indeed I will vanquish all spiders who are here..."

—Michelle Kunert, Sacramento


—Taylor Graham, Placerville

The courtship display is a diving/
rising arc, the letter
J, a pendulum,
written too quick
on air-paper in disappearing

All I remember
is arco-iris iridescence,
how I stood
to my feet,
unsolid ground.


—Taylor Graham

Half-sister, half a shadow
falling across

my memory’s wall.
Afraid of cliffs

across a continent
not quite a generation

she cantered
till her mind was a meadow.

before I knew her.


Today's LittleNip:

—D.R. Wagner, Elk Grove

What quick lights these upon the glass
Go, go are gone again,
The air is quick, the air is fast,
Go, go are gone.

(Appeared originally in Cruisin' At The Limit, Duck
Down Press, Fallon, NV)



Photo by Michelle Kunert, who writes:
English Country dance in the Central Library
for Jane Austen Book Club on July 25.
The big chandelier-like sculptures in the ceiling
reflected little rainbows everywhere and I just tried to capture them.