Dioramas and Dreams

—Photo by David Iribarne

LOVE'S FUNERAL

—David Iribarne, Sacramento

Make sure I don’t fall
I enter the water
awakening
Bleeding for nothing
just because you breathe
is why I breathe
never free enough to find you
have you
I used to dance
when you were around
you taught me to dance
you guided me.

Now I have become numb
no will to swim
no will to tread against the waves
current has seized me
like you once captured me five years ago.

At that time, I was overcome
with your grace, your beauty.
Your eyes captivated me
your black luscious hair
even when unkept lassoed me
kept me tangled up
lavender smell of your perfume
drew me close
and your long legs
intertwined my body
luring me in.

Five years ago you were my destiny
now my body is ice cold
feelings frozen
love has met its demise.

_____________________

BUTTERFLY
(After a photo by David Iribarne)

—Ann Wehrman, Sacramento

white, succulent wings
like the thinnest of aloe leaves tremble
butterfly drinks dew, nectar
from the heart of gold and fuchsia bells nestled
in leaves shadowed to evergreen
sun’s merciless path
throwing her sip of manna into highest relief
bright contrast to the deep, cool
support of green, dark leaves
promising cool shade, deep breath, silence

____________________

ANNA'S NIGHT SHADE
(for Anna Akhmatova, b. June 23, 1888)

—B.Z. Niditch, Brookline, MA
 
A glass of tea
seen through a mirror
in the middle of night
on a June 23rd birthday
because it is never late
to be warm and still
in a dark hour
when requiem's
slow recognition
burns in liquid tapers
by two candles
concealing us
in the midst of shadows
on the timeless mantle
by once wintry blinds
moving in the wind
and language is still
unwritten in word
dioramas and dreams
where stars
from evening frost
like winter's snow flakes
along the Volga
mask from the sky
dusting over our fingers
in an open window
by a bird's voice
smothering quiet
along the moonlight
changed hallways
your eyes shut
in a motionless hand
on the piano.

Calif. Museum of History, Sacramento

—Photo by Michelle Kunert

People go to the movies to see superheroes
   but for me now
   "Superman" is a Mexican immigrant on a bicycle
   who helped me rescue a female boxer and pit-bull mix dog
   when no one else on Lemon Hill and Stockton Blvd. would help
   he chased after her into traffic
   as she dodged cars going two directions and nearly got hit 
   her breasts swollen and milky
   probably escaped trying to find some either lost or sold puppies  
   he took off his own belt and looped it through her collar
   Like me he too risked getting bit
   because she was unlicensed as well as not spayed
   Whoever had her before probably didn't deserve her anyway
   I only had a few dollars for groceries to reward "Superman"
   even though he expected nothing in return

—Michelle Kunert, Sacramento

______________________

 I guess I'm one hairy bear
   being how my leg hair so defiantly grows

   I use an electric depilitator
   it's supposed to yank out hair from the roots
   yet within a week I get stubble again
   I wish the hair on my head grew as well
   thinning head hair runs in my family

—Michelle Kunert

_____________________

Today's LittleNip(s):

if I knew what I was doing
i wouldn’t be doing this

*****

death
is so final
no do-overs

*****

when it comes to bad
writing
i’m all over it
     

—charles mariano, sacramento   

____________________

—Medusa

Poets James Moose, Betsy Powell, Shawn Pittard

at Crocker Art Museum, Sacramento

—Photo by Katy Brown