Wednesday, November 03, 2010

What Do Bones Say?

Photo by Katy Brown, Davis

—Taylor Graham, Placerville

Behind him, a city grafted on smoke-
filled rooms, the exhalation of chimneys.

He has no name for the glitch
of reason or will that brought him to this raw-

hide land, its dry boleros of wind
across bare distance,

its comfort of the wavering
campfire under stars.

Thanks, TG and today's other contributors for the poems and photos! Taylor Graham and 12 other readers will be reading along at The Ophidian Extravaganza one week from tonight (Weds., 11/10) at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sacramento, 7:30pm, to unleash the long-awaited Ophidian upon the poetry cyber-world. Other readers include frank andrick, Shawn Aveningo, Trina Drotar, Pat Hickerson, James Lee Jobe, Cynthia Linville, Carol Louise Moon, Ann Privateer, Henry Reneau, Allegra Silberstein, Sandy Thomas, and guest Oregonian Be Davison Herrera, each reading for a good solid five minutes to help us inaugurate this anthology of poetry and art.

Meanwhile, Word 2010 takes place at The Guild Theatre this Friday (11/5) from 6-11pm, 2828 35th St., Sacramento, presented by Terry Moore, Bob Stanley and the Sacramento Poetry Center to benefit The Center for Fathers and Families ($5). Here's the schedule:

6:00 - Host Bob Stanley
Khiry Malik
Trina Drotar
Joshua McKinney
Chad Sweeney

7:00 – Host Rebecca Morrison
Frank Andrick
Laura Cooks
Andy Jones
Sean King
Moira Magneson

8:00 – Host Frank Andrick
Tim Kahl
Rebecca Morrison
Bob Stanley
Terry Moore with LSB

9:00 – Host NSAA
Open Mic with LSB’s back-up
(Features welcome to join in!)

10:00 – Host Terry Moore

—Taylor Graham

What do you call the solace of walking
alone? Natural as a leaf among oak trees
on the morning of mid-summer,

between meadow and a cedar ridge—
a trail I never walked before,
and even the birds were silent, the wind

had no words as it fingered
summer’s edges.
What was it I heard, and didn’t

hear? What could she call, without
a mouth for words?
A girl—no more a girl, but

what they found weeks later.
Speechless. Grounded, a fallen leaf.
What do bones say?

—Richard Zimmer, Sacramento

On the table, a coffee cup that bears his
name—his only legacy.  If it were to be
smashed, he’d leave nothing behind—
people would forget he’d ever lived.

Philip Flounders hears a buzz in his ear.
A small voice telling him the coffee cup
is his only identity, with power over him.
The voice tells him to get another cup.

He sees the name Napoleon appear on it.
Phil feels a new sense of power.  He starts
giving orders to an invisible army.  His
Face lights up.  He never felt so good.

The small voice gruffly says he must
get another cup.  The name on it is now
Jack the Ripper.  Phil’s hands shake.  He
cries, I don’t want to be a murderer!

You’ll be doomed a nobody if you don’t,
the voice warns him.  Phil collapses.  Later
waking, he looks fondly at his old cup—
changing his name to Phil Floundaires.

Phil Floundaires, that sounds great!
No one can make a fool out of me now.

He sets his coffee cup down, and walks
out the door with a brand-new identity.


Today's LittleNip:

—Kevin Jones, Fair Oaks

And so he asked them,
What is it you do,
Weird Sisters?

They told him:
A Thing without
A name, Macbeth.

It all went downhill
From there. 



Photo by Katy Brown