Shadow Boxes
—Photo by Katy Brown, Davis
LUCK, BE
A LADY TONIGHT
—Tom Goff, Carmichael
—Tom Goff, Carmichael
You are
my luck, sweet lady devil,
my
entirely unearned fortune.
Let me
keep right on squandering your
white
ankles, your poached-ivory back,
your
heiress-run-wild tresses. I want to spend
that
nut-brown gaze a squirrel would only
toss atop
the stockpile, run through every
annuity
those Himalayan pink salt lips barely
parting
around mystery smiles will mini-grant.
Oh let’s
lay waste to your after-hours aroma,
Venusian
delta, underarm, instep steeped
in Clive
Christian perfume. Retina-scan me
into your
offshore vermilion zone. Greed
is good,
my gecko. Crawl my thighs. I’ll
finger-lizard
up each tendril that ka-chings
and
ringlets largesse before your very
earlobes;
deed me your most shameless
tasteless
embrace, bond with me, my sweet
t-bill,
bind me to the bedpost, then lose me
as every
windfall just goldfingers away...
_______________
MAY THE TYCHE BE WITH YOU
—Caschwa, Sacramento
I was playing the nickel slots
In Las Vegas
Win a few, lose a lot
Win a few, lose a lot
Do it again
Then out of nowhere
Three lucky sevens!
Bells, whistles, fanfares
Bells, whistles, fanfares
Loudspeaker announcements
Crazy happiness
Lady Luck herself
Pranced right over to me
Transgendered, mustached
And handed me a token
To redeem at the counter
Ten dollars
I got what I came for:
The experience of winning
Knowing that after 3 days Lady Luck
Would leave that town and deliver
A new heart to someone deserving.
—Photo by Katy Brown
UNCLE
BILL’S CABIN VII
—Patricia
Hickerson, Davis
that
evening
scuffling
through leaves along a forest path
Uncle
Bill said there’s another cabin somewhere in here
where
young people used to hang out…students
they were
poets
they got
drunk on weekends
called
themselves the Li-Poets
after the
drunken 8th century court poet Li Po
nowadays
called Li Bai; Uncle Bill paused,
then
a pot
of wine, under the flowering trees,
I
drink alone, for no friend is near
raising
my cup I beckon the bright moon,
for
her, together with my shadow, will make three people
it’s much
better in the original
Uncle
Bill! I didn’t know you could read Chinese!
there’s a
lot you don’t know, kid.
the moon
was rising
we
followed our shadows home
covered
in ivory glow
_______________
UNCLE
BILL’S CABIN VIII
—Patricia Hickerson
at dawn
dancing
barefoot in the woods
no care
about poison oak
though
Uncle Bill had warned me
dancing,
dancing through the leaves
in the
shadow of branches
pretending
Mom was alive
jauntily
playing the piano
playing music
she loved
for me to
dance to
music
from Oklahoma!
on the
old upright she bought for $25
kept in
the basement at Ross Avenue
singing
in her thready Tennessee mountain voice
more like
a bird screech
oh
what a beautiful morning
oh
what a beautiful day!
trembling
at the high notes
sounding
like a rusty bell
through
my dream came the breakfast bell
an
ancient triangle Uncle Bill hung on the cabin porch
dance
home
prodded
by a meaty aroma
Uncle
Bill’s hamburgers
topped
with fried eggs, apricot slices,
crumbles
of blue-streaked Roquefort
what a
treat, Uncle Bill
I’m
starving!
____________________
UNCLE
BILL’S CABIN IX
—Patricia
Hickerson
evening
snow
settling
of cold white ash
on roof
and timber
snow
stretched across the clearing
to the
waiting woods
bare
trees waiting for cover
and here
in the cabin
waiting
for Uncle Bill
his Cajun
soup—
catahoula
from his bayou boyhood
trout,peppers,onion,garlic,parsley,tomatoes
dive in,
kid! Uncle Bill
commanded
as
he set the steaming bowl before me
_______________
UNCLE
BILL’S CABIN X
—Patricia
Hickerson
snoring
from Uncle Bill’s bunk
sunlight
through the window
pinned me
to my sleeping bag
awake as sparrows and jays sang out
got their
day going
snow
slowly disappearing
a warm
day first spring
solemn as
drum tattoo
Uncle
Bill’s voice booming across the room
wake
up, kid! it’s your turn to make coffee
_______________
Today's LittleNip:
hairy eyeball
—charles mariano, sacramento
help!
i don’t know
what i’m doing
and i keep
writing about it!
—charles mariano, sacramento
help!
i don’t know
what i’m doing
and i keep
writing about it!
_______________
—Medusa
—Photo by Katy Brown
Two reminders: check out Medusa's Kitchen's Facebook page
for a new photo album by Katy: Winemaking with Katy Brown.
And Katy will be reading at Sac. Poetry Center
with Claire J. Baker of Pinole on Monday, July 16.
See the blue b-board at the right of this
for details.
