The Wisdom of Carp

—Photo by Taylor Graham

LONG AFTER THE GOLD RUSH

—Taylor Graham, Placerville
 

A morning walk with dog, up, behind Main—

just an alley, backside of commerce. Rust,
dead-end tunnels into bedrock; smudged pane
of glass, a padlocked door. November gust
of wind shakes the trees-of-heaven, up-thrust
everywhere. Stone steps to nowhere. A steep
trail climbs—my dog and I abruptly deep
in homeless-jungle. Heaven's tree (a weed)
bends over where the city's outcasts sleep,
offering its dry pods alive with seed.

____________________

THE ARTIST,
    or Van Gogh’s Eyeball

—William S. Gainer, Grass Valley

I’ve started making
delicate things,
using the mundane:

spider webs,
beetle shells,
cricket legs—

no particular reason,
it just keeps me
busy.

I do hate it
when people
break these
delicate things
though.

For that reason
I make other things,
sharp,
pointy things.

When displayed
they seem to encourage
people
not to
touch.

But then again,
it could be
the note.
The one about
the venom,
the possibility
of infection,
or it could just be
the bloody eyeball
in the jar.

Who knows
where you get
these things?

But you do.

People seem
so much more
sensitive
these days.

Hardly anything
gets broken.

 —Photo by Taylor Graham

BOB MARLEY'S POSTER

—William S. Gainer
 

He wouldn’t let her
hang
her pictures
in the new house.

Her friends said
nothing
until they came
to help her
pack.

One brought
the staple gun
she used
to nail the poster;
     of Bob Marley
     smiling,
     smoking,
     big—

on the bedroom
ceiling.

Another gave her
the marker
she wrote the note,
in two foot letters,
on the living room wall
with—

“There maybe others,
but you
will always be
my first
ex-husband.”

Then, in a softer print
she added,
“All I ever wanted
was little something

to remind me
of me...”

___________________

THE ESTATE

—William S. Gainer

I’m done.
I’m giving it all to the church,
the whole damn mess.
They can have it all,
do what they want,
keep it,
sell it,
I don’t care.
Maybe get enough money
to buy some wine,
throw a party,
their choice.
I DON’T CARE.
The nuns can go through it,
piece by piece,
they might like
the porn collection.
At worst
they can use it
to teach the choirboys
what it takes
to make an angel
fly.

(first pub. in Invitations from the Jukebox, 

Rattlesnake Broadside, 2005)

____________________

Thanks to today's chefs for some might-tee fine cookin'! Bill Gainer will be reading on frank andrick's Pomo Literati radio program this Sunday; scroll down to the blue board at the right for details about that. Bill also will be reading at Phil Larrea's new reading series at Capitol Beer and Tap Room in Sacramento a week from Saturday (the 17th); watch the blue board for lots of poetry happenings that day, in fact.

Some of our other SnakePals have books that have either been released or about to be:

•••Tim Kahl's The Century of Travel is available at www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-century-of-travel-tim-kahl/1112919175

•••Patricia Hickerson's Rachel, My Torment, a tiny chapbook with a huge wallop, can be ordered at Angstman Arts, Alternating Current, P.O. Box 183, Palo Alto, CA 94302 (include a check for $5).

•••D.R. Wagner has a new full-length book (97 Poems) coming out soon from Dave Boles' Cold River Press: pre-order at coldriverpress.org

And don't forget to check out the new photo album on Medusa's Facebook page: Halloween at Luna's, courtesy of Evan Myquest and Michelle Kunert.

____________________

Today's LittleNip:

TRACES: WORDS OF WISDOM
FROM THE HENNEPIN CANAL—Kevin Jones, Elk Grove

If you leave
A carp too long
In your trunk in
August, you’ll still
Have something
To remind you
Even in the warm
Days of December.

___________________

—Medusa

—Photo by Taylor Graham