—Cynthia Linville, Sacramento
Angel with a broken wing
flies along limpingly
I follow, land, meet his marble cousins
in a still graveyard where
cold white arms cradle a skeleton
and chubby cherubs unfurl a banner I lean in to read
the tombstone slowly opens and – suddenly –
icy wings, pointy nails and teeth envelop me
razor sharp, wrestling
crashing through a ceiling
unable to regain my breath, still reeling
only to find warm darkness
slowly brushing me
The latest edition of Laverne and Carol Frith’s Ekphrasis is out, with poems by several SnakePals, including locals Kathleen Lynch, Jane Blue, and Jeanine Stevens. Go to www.ekphrasisjournal.com for a copy and/or a subscription. (See also the b-board...)
The weekend is upon us. Get your poems to Frank Andrick for WTF8 today, then tonight head over to Davis for The Other Voice to hear Edythe Haendel Schwartz and Margaret Hoehn. Not much doin' Sat. and Sun. (go see Howl), but gear up for next week and next weekend! More about that to come; did I mention you should keep watchin' the b-board....?
a card game
bringer of all that's fair
a minor form of despair
which at times, proves at fault
necessary ingredient of genius
hardest time of all
sov'reign o'er transmuted ill
passion of great hearts
bitter, but its fruit sweet
curled up like a dog at our feet
This is a tribute poem:
line 2 The Bible
line 3 A proverb
line 4 Ambrose Bierce
line 5 Charles Churchill “Prophecy of Famine”
line 6 Robert Browning “Paracelsus”
line 7 Benjamin Disraeli
line 8 Sarah Doudney “Psalms of Life”
line 9 Ralph Waldo Emerson
line 10 John Milton Paradise Lost
line 11 John Christian Morgenstern
line 12 Samuel Johnson “The Vanity of Human Wishes”
line 13 James Russell Lowell “Columbus”
line 14 Jean Jacques Rousseau Phaedrus Fables
line 16 Kurt Vonnegut
Your arm is draped over my shoulders.
As the miles flow over us in breathless minutes,
we are content to sit in silence
and I am reminded of that August I spent alone in London
hardly saying anything to anyone other than
just one ticket
with oil and vinegar please.
I squeeze your palm between mine
and you draw me closer,
briefly resting your chin atop my head.
What is this country we are hurtling into?
—Patricia A. Pashby, Sacramento
No Kafka nightmares drooped his tail—
he was a Sheltie and a lover.
He barked poetic, brought in the mail—
dreamed that Lassie was his big brother.