Friday, April 30, 2010

Fires of Our Own Setting


House Gods
Photo Enhancement by D.R. Wagner, Elk Grove



THE ONLY WAY OUT
—Paul Lojeski, Port Jefferson, NY

I was caught in a forest fire
of my setting. Every exit
was blocked.

One day I said, fuck it,
and ran straight through
the flames. I can still

feel the burn and smell
the smoke. Sometimes,
you’ve got no choice.

__________________

This weekend in NorCal poetry:

•••Friday (4/30) and Sat. (5/1), 6-9pm: SAYS SLAM Semi-Finals La Raza Galeria Posada, 1022 22nd St., Sacramento. Free. Presented by SAYS (Sacramento Area Youth Speaks, education.ucdavis.edu/projects-outreach/sacramento-area-youth-speaks). SAYS will be hosting the Slam to get the top 6 poets to represent Sacramento at Brave New Voices, the International Youth Poetry Slam, which will be held in Los Angeles in July. Info: sacramento365.com/event/detail/440705355/SAYS_SLAM_FINALS_

On Friday, May 7 at 6pm, the SAYS SLAM FINALS will be held at the Mondavi Center for Performing Arts in Davis with HBO Def Poet ISE LYFE. Register at education.ucdavis.edu/projects-outreach/sacramento-area-youth-speaks; $15 per person or $5 youth/students. (Also check out workshops which will be held during that day.)

•••Tonight (Friday, 4/30), 7:30pm: Sacramento Poetry Center presents Stories on Stage with stories by Stefanie Freele and Renee Thompson, brought to life by Kent Gray, Marni Webb and Tim Kahl at R25, 1719 25th St., Sacramento (between Q and R Sts.). Suggested donation $5; join us for refreshments, beginning at 7pm. Host and Coordinator: Valerie Fioravanti.

•••Sat. (5/1), 1-3pm: How to Write About Your Mother: Just in time for Mother's Day, an afternoon of lively discussion, journaling, and writing exercises with Jennifer Bayse Sander, author of The Complete Idiot's Guide to Getting Published and the founder of Write By The Lake women's writing retreats (www.writebythelake.com). $10/$5 MatrixArts members. MatrixArts, 1719 25th St., Sacramento. Info: 916-768-6077 or matrixarts@comcast.net

•••Sat. (5/1), 1pm: Come celebrate around the maypole, as San Francisco's Poet Laureate, Diane di Prima, hosts this delightful afternoon of poetic revelry
in historic Kerouac Alley (between City Lights and Vesuvio Cafe), San Francisco. May Day is celebrated as a green holiday. Dress conspicuously festive for the occasion! Merriment is encouraged! Poetry shall be read by Diane di Prima, Sharon Dubiago, Maketa Groves, Joseph Lease, Alejandro Murguia, and A.D. Winans. Presented by City Lights Bookstore (www.citylights.com) and Diane di Prima. [For an article about di Prima being named SFPL, go to www.sanfranciscosentinel.com/?p=26915/.]

•••Mon. (5/3), 7:30pm: Poetry on buses in Sacramento? Thanks to RT Metro, UC Davis Extension, and the Sacramento Poetry Center, there’s an alternative to reading advertising inside local buses these days. Inspired by programs in New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles, the new Poets on Board program puts poetry placards inside RT’s buses to feature the work of local poets and artists. The first placards were installed during April (Poetry Month). Underwritten by UC Davis Extension, the Poets on Board program will feature a different poet for each season of the year. The first piece is an excerpt from Enso, by Viola Weinberg Spencer, Sacramento's first co-Poet Laureate (2001), and it features the artwork of Mario Uribe. The placard itself was designed by local graphic designer Richard Hansen.

This Monday at SPC (1719 R St., between 25th & R in Sacramento), Weinberg and Uribe will be talking about their project that produced the poem and artwork. There will also be a limited edition offering—signed copies of the full-size bus placards will be available on that date. Sales of the limited edition version will help fund future bus placards planned as part of the Poets on Board program.

If you have any questions about the Poets on Board program, the event, or want to participate in the project in some way, please contact Bob Stanley at bobstanley@sbcglobal.net.

__________________

News about our SnakePals:

•••Tues. (5/4), 2pm: Sacramento’s Norma Kohout will be honored by the County Board of Supervisors next Tuesday, May 4 at 2pm at the County Admin. Building, 700 H Street, in Sac—A well deserved recognition of her community service. Go to rattlesnakepress.com/Norma_Kohout.html to read more about her!

•••Quinton Duval is under the weather. His wife, Nancy, takes emails to the hospital for him, so you might drop him a line at red-wng@sbcglobal.net

•••Tom Goff was a friend of Pearl Stein Selinsky, who passed away on the 26th. He wrote this for her, talking about her successful stab at an Experimental Poetry piece. Pearl's daughter, Jody Feldman, tells me that there is no memorial service planned as yet, but she will keep me informed.


PEARL
—Tom Goff, Carmichael

Pearl Stein Selinsky: a name
to lift up, a gem-inlaid cup,
a soft lambency, sea-cultured, in the syllables.

Elegance was the woman,
and forthright expression
fearless of risk: lifelong student,

traveler, writer, generous
almost egoless sharer and savorer
of poems. We nominally co-hosted

readings at South Natomas
Library, but Pearl’s was by far
the greater preparation. Wonderful verses,

hers, to be sure: and, on one particular
expressive page, a shape-poem
in Poetry, as if to prove,

and prove she did,
that a clear place in the history of the art
requires no New York apartment.

___________________

ING II
—Mitz Sackman, Murphys

Being
Seeing
Freeing

Towing
Slowing
Going

Whiling
Filing
Smiling

__________________

THE BASEMENT TAPE
—Paul Lojeski

In the damp-walled basement,
with but a single, bare bulb
above the washer and dryer,

I stuffed clothes in the machine
and hurried down the stairs
of childhood, rushing past iron

wash tubs and a fat, padded boiler
into the little room where she stood
hunched over the ironing board.

Under the same stark light her
slight frame seemed impossibly
vaporous. She looked like

a traveler already gone. I turned
on the machine, thinking, some
things never change.

__________________

ABANDONMENT
—Paul Lojeski

Buddha crept from the castle
in the middle of the night.
Was the red moon full?

Did white owls hoot and black
wings beat as he left his wife
and boy curled up in the royal

suite? To enlightenment he rode
hard, a justified flight followers
say. To his abandonment

they pray, letting go the want
and worry in his holy way.

___________________

IN THIS FIELD
—Paul Lojeski

What is it with people, anyway,
beating the drums of time
with such blue intentions?

I’ve done my share of hurting
others. That’s my confession.
Now, what’s yours?

___________________

Today’s LittleNip:

ON A TOMBSTONE
—Paul Lojeski

Banjos Ruined the Whole Thing





This Forest God
Photo Enhancement by D.R. Wagner


___________________

—Medusa





Thursday, April 29, 2010

Be No Stranger To The Mysterious


Photo by Bob Dreizler, Sacramento


HEARTFELT
—Patricia A. Pashby,
Sacramento

youthful hearts
ache
palpitate
break
rejuvenate

aging hearts
ache
palpitate
break
defibrillate

__________________

TAKE HEART
—Patricia A. Pashby

breaking heart

aching heart

bleeding heart

have a heart

chicken heart

celery heart

artichoke heart

heartburn

__________________

NorCal poets will be saddened to learn that Sacramento poet Pearl Stein Selinsky passed away on April 26. For many years, Pearl and her husband, Victor Selinsky, were active members of the community, and Rattlesnake Press published a SpiralChap by the two of them and then later, after Victor's death, a rattlechap by Pearl. Our condolences to Pearl's family at this difficult time.

Our poets continue to try to flex new poetry muscles this week with our Seed of the Week: Experimental Poetry. Some have chosen to try some concrete poetry, but poor Medusa, being a limited creature of the blogspot universe, may not be able to display all these complicated formats. Still, you know you did 'em, and that's what counts! (Short on inspiration? Read a little Gertrude Stein, or e.e. cummings, or Russell Edson...)

__________________

CREDIT CARD CRUNCH
—Patricia Hickerson, Davis

call cull cap cock crank
cringe crate crime crimp creed cram croak cried
crane cooked cloak cream kayoed kink clunk clash
cling clutter clue clad couldn’t cruel cross crunch crash
crock crepe crap crude condition s-cratch s-cum s-ketch s-kin
s-kewed s-crew s-kimp s-can s-cale abs-cond caliph condo
crime crook catch crush cuff cage kill

___________________

All were gone before last call.

Bye-bye! juxtaposed Hy.
A true Arts & Letters comrade! amended Sandy.
I’ve 1/2 a mind to bust you up! contravened Virgie.

And make it a tall! demanded Mark.
Insisting on having a drink with character.
Another customer bolted into the bar,

Bring me a Pousse-café, enjoined Hy.
And I’ll have a B&B, added Sandy.
decided Virgie.
I’m leaning toward a Balthasar Shiraz/Viognier,

And ordered their favorite drinks.
Three characters quietly slipped into a bar

BOTTOMS UP by Carl Bernard Schwartz, Sacramento

___________________

FAILURE TO CONNECT
—Chrys Mollett, Angels Camp

Oh, How we want to connect,
—to let hearts meet—
How badly we need to speak—
But our words are across the table
And they just Look at us!

We try our skill with angles—
Meaningful poses and positions...
That cannot be deciphered—
And there's no one in the mirror.

We dabble in thoughts and histories—
Joyriding all over the place.
But every link is broken
And the cart with all our careful attempts
Falls backward, and teeters on the brink.

We may bare our aching hearts from cover
Try on bright and doleful colours
Speaking thoughts that seem to matter
But it all sounds foreign to us.

We force ourselves to chatter
Wading deep through all the clutter
of dashed dreams and failure.
It feels like a moving picture—
Celluloid, and without character.

And so we learn to listen
Knowing there is depth and satisfaction
in connection—
But, looking down—
We see our feet are tied together
Strapped to a dead post—
We're mired in silence and inertia.

Fear of forever taunts today.
We resist the simple, single grains
that could or might, in time, make all the changes come.

__________________

Today's LittleNip:

The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious... He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead...

—Albert Einstein

__________________

—Medusa



Photo by Michelle Kunert, Sacramento


Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Rut-Busting

Photo by Bob Dreizler, Sacramento


THE WISDOM OF ING
—Mitz Sackman, Murphys

Twitching

Witching

Stitching


Waiting

Debating

Creating


Sewing

Flowing

Knowing

___________________

We're breaking out of our rainy-day ruts this week with our Seed of the Week: Experimental Poetry. No judgments—see what your spirit of play can come up with. Send 'em to kathykieth@hotmail.com or P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726.

___________________

THE EXPERIMENTAL POET

—Richard Zimmer, Sacramento


Scribble, scribble goes the pen.

Words come faster than set down.

Tapping into streams of random thought.
Free flowing poetry is the intended goal.

Jigsaw jumble of words blended into verse.
A poem that wanders…sense and nonsense,

free from meaning…good or bad. T
rudging along, not knowing what comes next.


Humming tunes, keeps a mind free of thought.

Blindly hoping the blank pages will fill up.

Words dragged from a subconscious mind.

In bits and pieces magic words soon appear.


Cruelty has a human heart.

Earthly comforts all have ceased.

A mournful mean despair.

Some are born to an endless night.


The Experimental Poet smiles as his

next poem begins its own journey.

__________________

WITHOUT CAMERA

—Taylor Graham, Placerville


Vikings discover a rockbound shore – right before

my eyes against sunrise, a Bighorn ram – Lewis

& Clark pack their specimens cross-country – what
is that flower faded in my pocket? – the last moments

of Pompeii – a flush-toilet hangs from the floor like
ceiling – a military cargo flies almost underfoot –

a tree contemptuous of precipice – dreadful over-

looking, out-leaning the doubt of a moment – hero,
his eye impossibly bright in the unlit cave, his eye

tortuous – preferring the dead as they are, the roads

running underground. If I’d had a camera – how
could I remember waterfall, your whimsical smile.

__________________

THE COMMITTEE

—Taylor Graham


conceit maggot figment coinage empty sound
—He said she said

—He has the imagination of a cucumber.

—She sees bug-a-bears and dragons.

Oh ruckety road please take me home

pollen-dust free on the air as figment falling leaves
coining empty sound. Words and scribble scrabble.

—Everyone sitting on metal listening to the clock

ticking away legend fairytale and myth.

Outside it’s snowing, heaping snow crystals
in waves and dunes, whiting out the road.
Outside it’s volcano-blast orange, the sun breaks

through. Whimsy vagary extravaganza.

—Talking points drone out the right to roam.

—Emitting enough breathed-out air to grow

a rainforest in the middle of the room.
—Everybody sitting on their eminent domains.

___________________

AMANUENSIS

—Taylor Graham


O curious arcanum: Orion rises in Aries, Mars
crosses Samaria, Sun is in Cancer, Sirius arcs
Mexico as azoic aeons carve caverns, cornices,
crevasses. Moons ensure cave-ins, variances.
Caseosaurus consumes corms or crania. Zeus
arrives. Swine circus amuses Circe. A Siren’s
canon: music summons mariners. Can a rose’s
aroma ensnare Mesozoic nuns? Can rosaries
reassure conscience, as incense eases reason?
Sermons warn surcease. Corsair, courier, or
assassin, man wavers, worries, waxes, wanes,
remains as carcass, as anima.

__________________

Today's LittleNip:

Everything I did in my life that was worthwhile I caught hell for.


—Chief Justice Earl Warren



Exit
Photo Enhancement by D.R. Wagner, Elk Grove

_________________

—Medusa


Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Rut Intervention


Rain
Photo by D.R. Wagner




ONE HUNDRED MOONS
—D.R. Wagner, Elk Grove

moonmoonmoonmoonmoon
moonmoonmoonmoonmoon
moonmoonmoonmoonmoon
moonmoonmoonmoonmoon
moonmoonmoonmoonmoon
moonmoonmoonmoonmoon
moonmoonmoonmoonmoon
moonmoonmoonmoonmoon
moonmoonmoonmoonmoon
moonmoonmoonmoonmoon
moonmoonmoonmoonmoon
moonmoonmoonmoonmoon
moonmoonmoonmoonmoon
moonmoonmoonmoonmoon
moonmoonmoonmoonmoon
moonmoonmoonmoonmoon
moonmoonmoonmoonmoon
moonmoonmoonmoonmoon
moonmoonmoonmoonmoon
moonmoonmoonmoonmoon

__________________

What Windshield Wipers Have in Common With Life
—kathy kieth, pollock pines



clear/not/clear/not/clear/not/clear/not/clear/not/clear/not/clear/not/clear

clearclearclearclearclear/notnotnotnotnot

clear clear

NOT.

___________________

Is this poetry?

Let's get out of our ruts this week and try some experimental poetry for our Seed of the Week. No right or wrong here; break out of the box! Stretch the limits of the envelope! Get past clichés like those two... Send your experiments (poems/photos/artwork/andwhatelse) to kathykieth@hotmail.com or P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. No deadline here, since this isn't a give-away.


Yesterday Medusa Mis-spoke: Poetry Unplugged has Featured Readers this week in addition to Open Mic:

•••Thursday (4/30), 8pm: Poetry Unplugged at Luna’s Café, 1414 16th St., Sacramento, presents Neeli Cherkovski and Sam Eliot Stern. Poet/Author/Biographer Neeli Cherkovski will present selections from his new book, From The Canyon Outward, published by the national-award-winning R.L. Crow Publications. He will also present works from other publications and a few unpublished works, in addition to his fine anecdotal and story-telling forays. Neeli (born in Santa Monica, 1945) is an avid, vivid, and integral part or San Francisco poetry. He has written twelve books of poetry, including the award-winning Leaning Against Time; Elegy for Bob Kaufman; and Animal, as well as two biographies (Bukowski: A Life and Ferlinghetti: A Biography); and his Whitman's Wild Children (a collection of critical memoirs) has become an underground classic. In the late 1960's, he co-edited the poetry anthology, Laugh Literary and Man the Humping Guns with Charles Bukowski. Since 1975, Neeli has lived and worked in San Francisco. For five years he was Writer-in-Residence at New College of California where he taught literature and philosophy. Currently he is completing an as-yet untitled memoir of his life in poetry, a collection of poems on his travels in the Philippines, and a "selected poems". He teaches in The Floating University, offering courses in poetics, along with David Meltzer and Michael Rothenberg.

Sam Eliot Stern is a native of Sacramento who currently resides along the rugged Pacific Coast in the sleepy college town of Santa Cruz. While currently devoting most of his resources to finishing his BA in Anthropology, Sam still has managed to record a full-length debut album with his band, Stenographers, entitled Our Mythology. He moonlights as a multi-instrumentalist, both live and in the studio with Sacramento rock-and-roll band, The Stilts, and he contributes to the music-centric art blog, The Butterfly Net, as well as steadily working on a variety of prose, poetry, film, and musical projects. Check out his work at www.myspace.com/sameliotmusic or www.myspace.com/stenographers or butterflynetissomethingtoread.blogspot.com

__________________

my email keeps getting spammed
by those claiming they’ve got giant blueberry plants
that can grow in your own backyard
and put out tons of bowls year ‘round
and I wonder if it a scam
though I admit it is tempting
but I'm supposedly against such genetic modifications
as well as pro-organic
and therefore I could be giving to my enemies
However, isn't wanting berries instead of candy more noble?


—Michelle Kunert, Sacramento

___________________

THE HEMILOGUE
—Carl Bernard Schwartz, Sacramento

Speak up if you can’t hear me.
OK, I guess everyone’s settled in.
We’ll begin.

It’s important that you pay close attention
to absolutely every word I say.
Your opinions and comments are also very important,
so if we have any time at the end of this presentation,
and I’m not saying we will,
then … to save time, let’s move right ahead to the subject:

We know that a monologue is one person speaking to an audience.
That works great for humor, where the only feedback
the speaker solicits is appreciation.

Then there is the dialogue, which is two or more people
exchanging facts, thoughts, or ideas.
That often just doesn’t work,
because it requires that someone be silent and listen
while someone else is speaking.
Of course, it is against many people's nature to do that.

So the time has come to create a new term
which I have dubbed the “hemilogue”.
Briefly, it is simply half a dialogue,
with the major difference being that
in a hemilogue, there is virtually no feedback.

Some common examples of hemilogues today are:
telephone announcements that leave no opportunity for reply;
endless loop recorded parking restrictions aired over the
public address system at the airport;
politicians exercising a filibuster;
any utterances of a guard dog; and…

I’m sorry, we have now run out of time.
As a special parting treat,
I have left an empty space beneath each of your seats
that you are free to fill with your comments and ideas.
You’ve been a great crowd.




Snake Does Like His Juice
—Photo by Carl Bernard Schwartz

__________________

Today's LittleNip:

You can't have everything. Where would you put it?

—Steven Wright

__________________

—Medyewsa

Monday, April 26, 2010

Life! Love!


Bear, Darling House, Santa Cruz
Photo by Katy Brown, Davis



JELLYFISH PLANET
—Patricia Hickerson, Davis

where I sit on the shore
I speak to your nerve-ringed colonies
nets of touch and sting
that vein your skin
calibrate canals
spread umbrellas
cover oceans
emboss a charter on the currents

where old fish
go extinct
in the acid flow of waste
you unfurl tentacles
devour ancient haunts

where Vikings plied their craft
through icy waters
you six-foot navigators, Cyanea,
now cast out oars a hundred feet
sweep catch to under-mouth
sail on to denser prey

where slave ships docked at Cuba
you Man o Wars float free
to dot the waves
orange blue pink
of pouch and disc and bloom

where have you not charted seas
stretched through ponds and lakes
captured whole gulfs
swarmed and spermed and daily spawned
teased the moon, Aurelia,
lodged your eggs in oral pits?

where will you not live for 30 years
(or only months)
or live forever reversing
medusa to polyp and back
like you, Turritopsis,
pulsing toward the light
when I no longer sit here
talking to you?

__________________

Thanks, Pat, for responding to last week's jellyfish-in-the-medusa-stage photo. Cynthia Linville writes: Convergence website has been updated with new poems from Patricia Hickerson and new photographs by Joseph Davancens, Kevin Olson, and Curtis Wheatley. Check it out at www.convergence-journal.com/editors/linville/. See below for an Earth Week poem from Cynthia.

Lots of workshops this weekend; scroll down to HandyStuff on the bulletin board. I hear the Goldrush Writers still have room, and I'll bet the others do, too.


This week in NorCal poetry:

(for a more complete listing, go to eskimopie.net)

•••Monday (4/26), 7:30pm: Sacramento Poetry Center presents John Murillo and John Bell at R25, 1719 25th St., Sacramento. [See last Friday's post for bios.]

Coming to SPC next Monday, May 3: Viola Weinberg and Mario Uribe

•••Weds. (4/28), 6-7pm: Upstairs Poetry Reading at The Upstairs Art Gallery, 420 Main St. (2nd floor), Placerville. It's a poetry open-mike read-around, so bring your own poems or those of a favorite poet to share, or just come to listen. Free.

•••Weds. (4/28), 6:30pm: Teens are invited to play the “Exquisite Corpse” game and design a poetry bag at the El Dorado County Library, 345 Fair Lane in Placerville. Info: 530-621-5540 or eldoradolibrary.org

•••Thurs. (4/29), all day: In celebration of National Poetry Month in April, New York City is hosting the 8th annual Poem In Your Pocket Day (PIYP). Join in the excitement by carrying a poem in your pocket. You can write your own poem or borrow one from your favorite poet; just make sure to share it with your friends, family, and colleagues. Info: www.nyc.gov/html/poem/html/about/about.shtml

•••Thurs. (4/29), 8pm: Poetry Unplugged at Luna's Cafe, 1414 16th St., Sacramento, presents fifth-Thursday open mic.

•••Thursday (4/29), 7-8:30pm: Liberty’s Quest: The Compelling Story of the Wife and Mother of Two Pulitzer Prize Winning Poets, James Wright and Franz Wright—Reading, Q and A and book signing by author Liberty Kovacs. Liberty Kovacs' life story has all the elements of the American Dream, both its myth and its reality. Suggested $5 donation. MatrixArts, 1719 25th St., Sacramento, 25th and R Streets (behind the fence). Info: 916-768-6077 or matrixarts@comcast.net;
www.libertykovacs.com and www.rdrpublishers.com/catalog/item/3462364/5501318.htm

•••Sat. (5/1), 1-3pm: How to Write About Your Mother: Just in time for Mother's Day, an afternoon of lively discussion, journaling, and writing exercises with Jennifer Bayse Sander, author of The Complete Idiot's Guide to Getting Published and the founder of Write By The Lake women's writing retreats (www.writebythelake.com). $10/$5 MatrixArts members. MatrixArts, 1719 25th St., Sacramento. Info: 916-768-6077 or matrixarts@comcast.net

•••Sat. (5/1), 1pm: Come celebrate around the maypole, as San Francisco's Poet Laureate, Diane di Prima, hosts this delightful afternoon of poetic revelry
in historic Kerouac Alley (between City Lights and Vesuvio Cafe), San Francisco. May Day is celebrated as a green holiday. Dress conspicuously festive for the occasion! Merriment is encouraged! Poetry shall be read by Diane di Prima, Sharon Dubiago, Maketa Groves, Joseph Lease, Alejandro Murguia, and A.D. Winans. Presented by City Lights Bookstore (www.citylights.com) and Diane di Prima. [For an article about di Prima being named SFPL, go to www.sanfranciscosentinel.com/?p=26915/.]

__________________

I FOUND YOU GROWING IN MY GARDEN

naked as the dust
sitting among corn-stocks shooting up
like magic bean-stocks
and watermelons bigger than the moon.
I was naked too.
Mint and thyme sprang up
in my cool, dark foot-prints
as I walked toward you.
Tomato vines embraced us
twining up our legs
caressing us with bright red fruit
falling faster than a breath.
Pomegranates and apples showered us
grapes grew in our hair
and when your tongue touched mine,
I knew this was Eden.


—Cynthia Linville, Sacramento

__________________

THE GARDEN
—Ann Wehrman, Sacramento

my fingers in your hair
your face moves close, lips brush mine
recline, our bodies side by side
day turns to night turns to day
ripe fruit hanging near
sweet water from the spring
almond tree
that had dropped white stars on us
as we slept, now droops
slender branches, husked fruits
sun sinks beyond trees
lavender twilight hears us
softly laugh, tease, murmur
fearless before changing light
welcome night’s rich, black mantle
look, Saturn hangs low, glows white

___________________

EARTH GODDESS
—Ann Wehrman

for my sister, Jane

I wouldn’t have known it from strolling by
Jane’s humble, rented duplex,
building shared with a friendly, young, gay couple.
Enter through the front, screen door, rub my shin
against Jane’s sinuous cat,
trail towards the kitchen, past bundled lavender
in glasses, past the white deer skull on the
credenza, next to her un-strung, standing harp.
Walk past shelves with her vitamins, big jar of
Taster’s Choice above the gas range,
but she’s still not here;
push open the back door, and Jane’s world explodes
in my face, long driveway overgrown with grass,
hollyhocks and lemon verbena in tall sheaves
nodding, commingling, growing like beanstalks
up to the sky. Jane is further back yet, where the yard runs riot;
vegetables, flowers, all fruits of the earth kindled to life
by her magic. She reaches and strains, filling the bird feeder;
scolds greedy magpies who stalk around boldly with
white tuxedo chests. Jane looks up at me and smiles,
eyes crinkling in the sun, her thirty years seeming young;
who knew then that in just a few more,
she would be gone?

___________________

WRITING IN MY ROOM
AFTER WALKING TO THE LAUNDRY SHED IN RAIN
—Ann Wehrman

wind richly perfumed
with clear silver
whole, fat, wet drops
on my shoulders
gray sky heavy
fecund river smell
from miles away
high, bright grass
fertile with
cat, worm, bird droppings
small animals
watch from hiding holes
feel rain come
clean open
step inside my studio
gulp a full glass of water
desperate to feel
within myself
water coming
spring’s promise
greedy nerves
shout silent affirmation
Life! Love!

__________________

—Today's LittleNip:

The science of life is a suberb and dazzlingly lighted hall which may be reached only by passing through a long and ghastly kitchen.

—Claude Bernard

Darling House, Santa Cruz
Photo by Katy Brown

___________________

—Medusa


Sunday, April 25, 2010

And Of Course, The Poets


Readers at the March, 2010 Rattle-Read
as the Snake salutes Poems-for-All:

(from left to right) Kevin Jones, Richard Hansen, Martha Ann Blackman,
Kathy Kieth, Frank Andrick, Ann Menebroker, Joyce Odam,
Taylor Graham, Bill Gainer

(Photo by Katy Brown)



FLOWERS AND TALL-STALKED GRASSES
—Ivan Bunin

Flowers, and tall-stalked grasses, and a bee,
and azure, blaze of the meridian...
The time will come, the Lord will ask his prodigal son:
"In your life on earth, were you happy?"

And I'll forget it all, only remembering those
meadow paths among tall spears of grass,
and clasped against the knees of mercy I
will not respond, choked off by tears of joy.


(Translated from the Russian by David Curzon and Vladislav L. Gucrassev)

___________________

—Medusa (closing off Earth Week by giving thanks for all creatures—not the least of which are, of course, The Poets...)



Saturday, April 24, 2010

We, Too...

Jellyfish are amongst the most beautiful creatures in the marine world.
Although they are extremely simple marine creatures, their life cycle
is extremely complex and involves the jellyfish being transformed into
different body forms at different stages. The basic body forms adopted
by the jellyfish during its lifetime are planula, polyp, ephyra and medusa.
The medusa is the final form of the adult jellyfish… [www.jellyfishfacts.net]
—Photo by D.R. Wagner, Elk Grove




FRUITS OF THE EARTH
—D.R. Wagner, Elk Grove

Night decides to take over the conversation.
The shadows stir, the spiders begin
Their spinning toward the dawn.

Spring begins its work toward those
Seasons it will never see. The exuberance
Of buds and bright flowers, the dazed
Spinning of elm seeds through the green
Air. Soon there will be no room upon
The ground for all will be growing.

We do not wait. We dig the soil, find
The seeds of plants we want to see
In particular, begin the garden rituals.
We too become fruits of the earth,
Laboring toward the harvest, privileged
To entertain the dance through all the seasons.

The morning excuses itself from the night.
The night pales before her great might,
Calls the dark spider back to itself
And bides until the story changes once again...

____________________

We’re celebrating Earth Week with a give-away—send me a Seed of the Week poem about Fruits of the Earth and I'll send you a copy of Emily and the High Cost of Living by Kathy Kieth from Tiger's Eye Press—or any rattlechap of your choosing from Rattlesnake Press—free. Send 'em to kathykieth@hotmail.com or P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. There's a deadline on this SOW though: postmarked or e-mailed by tomorrow at midnight.

Poetry Out Loud is coming to a climax; go to www.poetryoutloud.org for the latest scoop.


Calendar addition for today:

•••Sat. (4/24), 9pm: Poets Heather Christian, Chara Charis, Nazelah Jeffries and singers Carla Fleming and Lakeisha Moody at Sol Collective Art Space, 2574 21st St., Sacramento. Hosted by Tenisha Michelle and DJ Novela. $10. Info: 916-504-9031.


Matrix Arts events to plan for next week:

•••Thurs. (4/29): 7-8:30pm: Liberty’s Quest: The compelling story of the wife and mother of two Pulitzer Prize winning poets—Reading, Q and A and book signing by author Liberty Kovacs. Liberty Kovacs' life story has all the elements of the American Dream, both its myth and its reality. Suggested $5 donation.

•••Sat. (5/1), 1-3pm: How to Write About Your Mother: Just in time for Mother's Day, an afternoon of lively discussion, journaling, and writing exercises with Jennifer Bayse Sander, author of The Complete Idiot's Guide to Getting Published and the founder of Write By The Lake women's writing retreats (www.writebythelake.com). $10/$5 MatrixArts members

Programs are held at MatrixArts, 1719 25th St., Sacramento. Info: 916-768-6077 or matrixarts@comcast.net


Just a few of the many Spring Festivals to inspire you this weekend:

•••Enjoy the Asparagus of the Earth at the 25th annual Stockton Asparagus Festival, Fri.-Sun. 10am-7pm at Weber’s Point in Downtown Stockton: www.asparagusfest.com

•••Festival de la Familia at Cal Expo on Sunday from 10am-7pm (Mass at 9am): www.festivaldelafamilia.org

•••134th Annual Scottish Sacramento Valley Scottish Games and Festival: Sat/Sun, 9am-5pm in Yolo County Fairgrounds, Woodland: www.saccallie.org

•••Return of the controversial Bodies Revealed exhibit on Alta Arden in Sacramento (runs through June): www.bodiessacramento.com

•••7th annual Nature Festival in Georgetown, Sat. 9am-4pm: Native music, poetry, dancing, arts, massage, food, children’s activities and more—including Mary Youngblood Music and Healing Workshop from 2-3:30pm. Free, but fees for some activities: georgetownnaturearea.org/. Native American flutist Mary Youngblood will give a benefit concert in the evening at the Georgetown IOOF Hall.

__________________

SPRING RAIN CLOUDED MY NOONDAY’S SIGHT
—robert buckenmeyer

spring rain clouded my noonday’s sight,
as clouds cried, trees dripped, streets ran,
while people slopped and cars skidded on rain
when my thought slipped on a leaf’s span!

as i looked at its veins upside
down, where sap ran inside green veins
so plants might grow, bud and flower,
then spring’s tears might wet seeds for life’s gain,

but, sadness is not the stuff of life,
though overcast sky cries water’s warm rain,
yet neither shadows nor sorrow do end life’s
gain, even though clouds and tears do reign.

__________________

MADRIGAL FOR A GREAT LADY
—Tom Goff, Carmichael

What drew us close was first your power of laughter,
primal, held out to share but yours to invoke
—think, cloudless lightning casually splits an oak:
the afterheat simply shimmers, not strained after.
What language must I master,
how could I catch your rhythm,
your electric tempo of chase?
Then the million-petalled aster,
sunrise in a calyx of chasm,
petal-fingered my lips with dawnborne grace.
Then your brush-of-an-eyelash embrace.
Now see how the young shoots of merriment, lightly strong,
thrust root-down, darken like life, deepen like song.

___________________

ON ROBERT CRAFT’S CONVERSATIONS WITH IGOR STRAVINSY (1959)
—Tom Goff

Whose wit is this? The English is exquisite.
And who takes credit for the omniscient culture?
The Master, his brain too restless for sepulture?
The youngster, brandishing twelve-tone cartes de visite?

Can Bob embolden one already bold,
his second act a rite of spring renewal?
Should Craft confess, be put on Socratic trial?
And he’s accused of what? Corrupting the old?

__________________

DANGLE THE PRELATE
—Tom Goff

What cliff might be high enough
to dangle a high prelate of the church from,

if that priest, or one under him, has tormented altar boys
bed-close in the night of the hospitality of their parents’ houses,

or amid the things of the wardrobe supposed to be
a Narnia gate of satin white vestment? What precipice

for a pontiff whose lips smile beatifically, contemplative
of the total good of the church’s beauteous image,

reluctant to spoil, deface, or defile that image
by releasing the sordid slobbering truth of the carnal act

to the police’s benevolent ungentle investigation?
What cliff indeed? In fantasy we grin fit to split our faces

with crevices of contented vengeance,
acting the movie enforcer holding the shakedown

victim by one ankle out the window seventy stories up.
These are, many of them, old men we would hold thus.

Gives the hot mind pause. Yes, bless the innocent young
boys, the noble young girls broken in upon

by raptors. You understand, we do not forgive.
We cannot forgive,

unless, by the awkward workings of the mind,
we drift, we settle, we forget. These

are the senile times, in which we dream
as do our churches and governments. Our wits suffice

to conjure visions, not of universal peace or justice,
but of pleasure: fresh pleasures we seize upon as fast as

old ones decay. Who now, recalling earlier epochs,
will bring back the horsewhip and soundly beat the blackguards?

_______________

Today's LittleNip:

With your crow call you summon the crows. They are confused and can't make out the message. Do you want your art to be like this?

—Stephen Dobyns

________________

—Medusa (with thanks to newcomer Robert Buckenmeyer and artists Tom Goff and D.R. Wagner for today's contributions)



In the Garden
Photo by D.R. Wagner


Friday, April 23, 2010

As If There Were A World


Water
Photo Enhancement by D.R. Wagner, Elk Grove



HARD WORK & PARADISE
—Chrys Mollett, Angels Camp

In a long-parched land
rain seems fruit enough for celebration.
But rain—plus earth—plus sunshine
coax these sleeping seeds to burst
with manifest life.

Willing hands, browning shoulders,
longer days to work the soil—
We compost yesterday's bits & pieces
with silent help of worms and unseen nematodes.

Paper catalogues—a January voyeur's dream—
now line the dust bin.
We have the real thing
growing and twining—
Daily I go out and count the buds
until I cannot count them all.
Paradise surrounds
and Food for millions starts right here.

__________________

MINGLING FRUIT AND FLORA
—Chrys Mollett

Green stems thick and succulent
from so much rain.
Mud puddles welcome the joyful galoshed feet,
the oblivious trudger
and bold sparrows taking a cold bath.

Garlands of tiny yellow Banksia roses
make sprays of spring
in their single, showstopping bloom time,
wandering way up into the oak trees
some 30 feet with yellow pompom blossoms.

Until this last heavy rain
even the weeds were still cute.
But now they'll become overbearing tyrants.
Out, damn weeds!
I want to save the soil for food and fruit.
Impossible to keep up with Nature.

__________________

We’re celebrating Earth Week with a give-away—send me a Seed of the Week poem about Fruits of the Earth and I'll send you a copy of Emily and the High Cost of Living by Kathy Kieth from Tiger's Eye Press—or any rattlechap of your choosing from Rattlesnake Press—free. Send 'em to kathykieth@hotmail.com or P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. There's a deadline on this SOW though: postmarked or e-mailed by midnight, Sunday, April 25.


This weekend in NorCal poetry:

•••Sat. (4/24), 2-4pm: An Afternoon of Poetry at the Arden-Dimick Library (Watt and Northrop in Sacramento), featuring Indigo Moor, Kathleen Lynch and Bob Stanley.

•••Sat. (4/24), 2-4:30pm: Going to be in Santa Cruz this weekend? Bookshop Santa Cruz is launching the second season of its popular series, Bookshop Santa Cruz Outdoors, with a Hike & Poetry event led by Ellen Bass. In honor of National Poetry Month, be inspired by nature while discovering your poetic voice. Join poet Ellen Bass (www.ellenbass.com/bio.php) as she leads a moderate hike through beautiful Wilder Ranch State Park and guides you through writing exercises inspired by the natural world. Individual price: $30 includes the 2+ hour hike, refreshments, & one copy of either of Ellen’s books, Mules of Love or Human Line. Couple's price: $45 includes the hike, refreshments & one copy of a collection of Ellen’s poetry for the couple to share. Pre-registration is required and space is limited. Please call 831.423.0900 to purchase tickets. Customers who register over the phone will have their book, ticket, and registration materials placed on hold for them to pick up at the store. Info: www.bookshopsantacruz.com/event/hike-poetry-ellen-bass

•••Sat. (4/24, and every last Sat. of the month), 7-9 PM: TheShowPoetrySeries features The Show's 6th Annual Stopper Slam, as some of the best poets around compete to see who can grab the $50 grand prize for the most electrifying poems. Plus poet Kelly Freeman-Richardson. Wo'se Community Center, 2863 35th St. (Off 35th & Broadway), Sacramento. $5.00. Info: 916-208-POET or E-mail: fromtheheart1@hotmail.com

•••Sunday (4/25), 4-6pm: Booksigning at The Book Collector (1008 24th St., Sacramento) with Arthur Winfield Knight. Poet, writer and editor of Unspeakable Visions, a literary journal of Beat Generation writing, Arthur celebrates the release of his latest book. Arthur will be hanging out at the bookstore on Sunday afternoon to sign books and chat with anyone who comes for a visit. Join us in a relaxed environment with light refreshments to talk with the author.

SMALL PRESS SALE: All small press poetry publications from presses like Rattlesnake Press and Swan Scythe will be on sale between 4-6pm for 20% off.

FREE POEMS-FOR-ALL: In honor of Poem in Your Pocket Day (coming up on April 29th) dozens of free little books are yours for the taking! Come grab a pocket full...

Arthur Winfield Knight has published more than 2,000 poems and short stories and, with his wife Kit, has edited eight volumes dealing with the Beat Generation, including Kerouac and the Beats (Paragon House, 1988). His most recent novel is Misfits Country (Tres Picos Press, 2008). Other novels include: Blue Skies Falling (Forge, 2001) based on Sam Peckinpah; Johnnie D. (Forge, 2000); The Darkness Starts Up Where You Stand (Depth Charge Books, 1996), and The Secret Life of Jesse James (BurnhillWolf Books, 1996). He has also completed a novel about Billy the Kid.

Knight is a well-known chronicler of the Beat Generation. In addition to his correspondence with and photography (with over 200 book jacket photos to his credit) of the poets and writers of the Beat Generation, Arthur co-edited The Unspeakable Visions of the Individual series of books in a total volume of eight. The Beat Book (Arthur Winfield and Glee Knight, editors) was published in 1974 as Vol. 4 of The Unspeakable Visions series—an essential beat book, with a wealth of photos and contributions by key figures of the beat movement, including Kerouac, Ginsberg, Burroughs, Carolyn and Neal Cassady, Phil Whalen, Carl Solomon, Peter Orlovsky, Gregory Corso, John C. Holmes, Paul Bowles, Bob Kaufman, Micheal McClure, Jack Micheline, Larry Rivers, Gary Snyder, Diane di Prima, Paul Metcalf, Herbert Huncke, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, and others. The Beat Diary (Arthur Winfield and Kit Knight, editors) was published in 1977 as Volume 5 of The Unspeakable Visions series. It featured contributions from Kerouac, Corso, Ginsberg, and di Prima, among others.

•••Monday (4/26), 7:30pm: Sacramento Poetry Center presents John Murillo and John Bell at R25, 1719 25th St., Sacramento. An afro-chicano poet and playwright, John Murillo (www.johnmurillo.com) is the current Jay C. and Ruth Halls Poetry Fellow at the Wisconsin Institute for Creative Writing. A graduate of New York University's MFA program in creative writing, he has also received fellowships from the New York Times, Cave Canem, and the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, Massachusetts. He is a two-time Larry Neal Writers' Award winner and the inaugural Elma P. Stuckey Visiting Emerging Poet-in-Residence at Columbia College Chicago. His poetry has appeared in such publications as Callaloo, Court Green, Ploughshares, Ninth Letter, and the anthology, Writing Self and Community: African-American Poetry After the Civil Rights Movement. Up Jump the Boogie is his first full-length collection. His choreo-play, Trigger, is commissioned by Edgeworks Dance Theater and scheduled for production in early 2011.

John Bell is a member of the English faculty at American River College who did his MFA at Wichita State University. According to a Facebook poll, John is 70% black and 100% Brazilian. He sings bass in the church choir and is a member of the Two-year College Caucus and the National Council of English Teachers. He watches C-Span when Congress is in session and Cops. He defies you to be more than one degree of separation from him.

___________________

BACKYARD TREASURE
—Carl Bernard Schwartz, Sacramento

Our first house was on
a skinny, little lot
in Long Beach, California.

The so-called improvement
on the land
was barely the size
of a trailer home.

But we had a back yard,
so we thought we’d plant
tomatoes. Beefsteaks.

We cleared about
a 2-foot square
patch of soil
right alongside the water heater.
That must have been the difference
because the area remained
warm and damp
most of the time.

The vine grew like
Jack’s fictional bean stalk,
relentlessly in pursuit of the sun.
I built a wooden trellis
that let the vine climb
clear to the eaves,
held in place with
old shoe laces.

We must have done
something right,
as we were rewarded
with a bounty of large
delicious tomatoes,
some fully 2 pounds.

There was enough
to enjoy ourselves,
and to give away
to family and friends.

When it was done
it just shriveled away.
But we kept the trellis
for another day.

__________________

TIME TO CLEAN
—Carl Bernard Schwartz

It was getting time to clean
out weeds from the garden,

but my tuxedo needed to be cleaned and pressed,
and my barbells needed to be cleaned and jerked,
and my wounds needed to be cleaned and dressed.

Of course I’ll need to stay clean and sober,
and keep my energy clean and renewable,
and my bike chain needs to be cleaned and lubed,
and for Earth Week I’ll need to be clean and green.

So those weeds will just have to wait.



Photo by Carl Bernard Schwartz

_________________

Today's LittleNip:

THE NATURAL SCIENCES
—William Bronk

Not Plato's cave upon the wall of which
we see, he said, the shadows of reality.
There is reality but I've never seen
even its shadow on that or any wall.

We use, instead, whatever we find: scraps
and peels of something as if shards, but not
of a world that was. We calculate, predict
with them—as much as if there were a world.

__________________

—Medusa