Monday, September 23, 2013

Carpe Diem, Carpe Florem

Jim Moose read at Sac. Poetry Center
last Monday night, September 16, 2013.
—Photo by Michelle Kunert, Sacramento

—Taylor Graham, Placerville

Add the Fox as a central character, he said.
We already had the darkening cloak over Forest,
and one small fire against the Night; a Dog
as companion, recognized by its familiar
breathing in the dark; even in strange woods,
sure-footed as Fox, waking to guide.
Through the night, nothing but tales from beyond
the shadows cast by that small fire; maybe
a clearing in moonlight, too far to reach
without daybreak. Voices of nightbirds, voles,
vibrato of wind in leaves; and of course Fox.
Voices of prophecy and the serious Night.
Our own recounted bestiaries. In truth
there was only one voice slipping from tale
to tale, mind-merging one form of beast
with another. Each of us alone, having forgotten
our proper names; as tonight I’m alone
in the dark with my dog at the edge of Forest.


—Taylor Graham

Through the dark, snow headlight-bright.
Mountain jaws’ black teeth. Slow dawn.
Briefing by headlamp: summit
routes, mechanics of snowpack.
Such brief daylight for a search,
avalanche sun sets early.
Closure: mountain’s alpenglow.
Long mirrors reflect short light.
Winter forgets the faces
we once knew, features ghosted
in mercury, wisps of breath
no longer visible but
in memory, in the mirrors
behind our backs as we pass.
Early nightfall and late dawn
make dark for longer dreaming.
The lost ones reappear, merge
together, or separate.
Lately, I wake wondering
which is real, the waking or
the dream. His other-bright eyes.


—Taylor Graham

Days are running shorter now, the nights
go long. The thistle’s dead as summer-down.
Rambling Rosie, fleecy in French-taupe,
and her sister Sophie; broken ropes;
headlong-crush against the gate; gate lets go.

Off run ewes to raid the neighbors’ green.
We need a new gate, with catch-space
in-between: pliers and tie-wire, baling twine—
a sort of turnstile, jerrybuilt design.
That’s that. Now Sophie and Rose must grow

happy-fat on old dry hay and fresh-pick
garden clover till the greening winter rains
pass over. They’ll sing their grazing-song
of days gone shorter than the nights are long.


—Michael Cluff, Corona

Within the slowing dawns
elongating evenings
winter whispers in conspiracy
with the fall to let in the hiding
darkness of recovery
refurbishing of expended bliss
to lie in reserve
until the equinox
of mid-year
bursts upon one
the days grow plumper
to accommodate activity
for a prescribed while.

Ann Conradsen also read at SPC
last Monday night.
—Photo by Michelle Kunert

Jimbo’s with the kids jumpin’ rope because he’s:

 —Richard Hansen, Sacramento

Do you know just who he is?

the little best buh buh in the world is

Oh I think I Do know Who
That silly little puppy that won best in show

the little best buh buh likes people food
the little best buh buh has a tail too
when the little buh buh
has to poo
he’ll let
you know
all about that too
Do you know just who he is ?
the little best buh buh in the world is

Oh I think I Do know Now
The little best buh buh is not a Cow

buh buh has fur and tail that wags
buh buh has a nose and breath that’s great
buh buh likes to chase little squirrels all day
and silly little kitty cats run away
the Best little Jimbo’s the little Best Bo
He’s the Best Dog in the Great Big World
And Now You Do know Who he is
the little best buh buh in the world is


—Richard Hansen

I feel such bliss
I say to myself
“I wish I could bottle this”
we’re lucky we have each other
that we can be so close
spending hour after hour
yah know
I once dated a man that had
a penis the size of my index finger
No. I didn’t laugh
and anyway it wouldn’t have mattered
he was used to the way women reacted
having had so many in the sack
and he did just fine with it
But Oh! Guess what? He was married
well just a bit
the man with a little dick
turned out to be
one hell of a big prick
and the girls in the office
never warned me about him


—Richard Hansen

All agreed
What was seen on a muddy field of green
was rather unseemly to say the least!

A grapevine was whining
and all the creatures wondered why
so a weary whippoorwill whispered:
“Why are you whining?”
But at first the vine declined to specify why it was whining
while many creatures became wide-eyed bewildered by this willful remission
Not the giraffe
it laughed
and was quite relaxed
because its hooves were in wet mushy mud
which felt good
all the other animals decided
to follow the tall fellow into the mud to wantonly wallow
when suddenly
the grapevine’s whining subsided
and in the time occupied by five long sighs
the vine finally surmised a reply that was wise:
“It took me all summer to muster this luscious cluster
which contain my seeds
and they need to be
far away from me
because after all I can reproduce asexually
if need be
and having damn kids growing at my feet…”
But the grapevine never finished its sentence
because the giraffe came over and ate all of it
and all the animals became ignorant
It’s true!
Because now there’s no grapevine
to hear the news through
and no animal could be so brave
to stick around for the massive news update
giraffe flatulence is totally disastrous to all the animals’zez olfactory glands
Whenever the giraffe takes a piss
which is
after all
a waterfall from such a tall creature it's hard to miss
all are reminded that
Ignorance is Bliss!


Today's LittleNip(s):

. . . so I wait for you like a lonely house
till you will see me again and live in me.
Till then my windows ache. . .

                       * * *

. . . only do not forget, if I wake up crying
it's only because in my dream I'm a lost child
hunting through the leaves for your hands . . . 

—Pablo Neruda


—Medusa, with thanks to today's contributors, including Pat Pashby, who was inspired by last Saturday's Neruda quote in the Kitchen to go exploring again amidst his works, and who came up with a couple of beautiful passages of his for today. 

 Danyen Powell also read at SPC 
last Monday night. Tonight the readers will be
Dennis Schmitz and Douglas Blazek.
That's 25th & R Sts., Sacramento, 7:30pm. 
—Photo by Michelle Kunert