Barn Wood
—Photo by Katy Brown, Davis
DEALING WITH MYSTERY
—Taylor Graham, Placerville
My gas gauge slipped toward empty
on the long, deserted, dead-end road. But
we had a tail-wind that brought us
to a gas-pump petrified in time. Winter
wind down bare hills, through the boarded
doors remaining. I hoped for a bit
of magic here, of mystery—but there wasn’t
a soul, at least none with a body.
Silent balconies, broken stairways.
In shard-sheen of a storefront window
an ancient doll, dead; and a small bright
sphere like the moon glowing with wonder;
a face—a child? Gone to moonlight.
My dog pulled me the other way, winter-
bare hard into the wind. At hilltop
she sniffed, taking in whole histories
of scent. Moving slowly across horizon,
a man bent to the wind, tattered coat
color of soil; a shadow across the mouth
of knowing. He beckoned or was it
wind in my eye, sun-glare? Gone to earth.
Slant sun-sparkle like coin-metal
shattered, scattered on dirt.
—Taylor Graham, Placerville
My gas gauge slipped toward empty
on the long, deserted, dead-end road. But
we had a tail-wind that brought us
to a gas-pump petrified in time. Winter
wind down bare hills, through the boarded
doors remaining. I hoped for a bit
of magic here, of mystery—but there wasn’t
a soul, at least none with a body.
Silent balconies, broken stairways.
In shard-sheen of a storefront window
an ancient doll, dead; and a small bright
sphere like the moon glowing with wonder;
a face—a child? Gone to moonlight.
My dog pulled me the other way, winter-
bare hard into the wind. At hilltop
she sniffed, taking in whole histories
of scent. Moving slowly across horizon,
a man bent to the wind, tattered coat
color of soil; a shadow across the mouth
of knowing. He beckoned or was it
wind in my eye, sun-glare? Gone to earth.
Slant sun-sparkle like coin-metal
shattered, scattered on dirt.
Those whispers were wind; they held
stories, but withheld all the endings.
My gas-gauge magically not yet on empty.
stories, but withheld all the endings.
My gas-gauge magically not yet on empty.
_____________________
IF I COULD HAVE JUST ONE THING
—Michael Cluff, Corona
Time to sleep
in lavender sheets
paisley wool blankets
on the second-floor patio
with forget-me-nots
dwarf pineapple trees
and a pure white trellis
with thorn-less roses:
all this for however long
I wish.
The soft non-acidic rains
of Corona never touching me
in this permanently paid-off
part of a valley
that has gone hidden again
except for happily pondering
fair-minded people
who view bolts on doors
government internet spying
Dobermans for protection
and police overuse of bullets
anathema.
—Michael Cluff, Corona
Time to sleep
in lavender sheets
paisley wool blankets
on the second-floor patio
with forget-me-nots
dwarf pineapple trees
and a pure white trellis
with thorn-less roses:
all this for however long
I wish.
The soft non-acidic rains
of Corona never touching me
in this permanently paid-off
part of a valley
that has gone hidden again
except for happily pondering
fair-minded people
who view bolts on doors
government internet spying
Dobermans for protection
and police overuse of bullets
anathema.
Pony in Yard
—Photo by Katy Brown
THURSDAY SONG
—Michael Madigan, Santa Rosa
A fence, chains pointed, separating the
cupped sanity from obligation's
quills. Once humorous, now a
strangle. How it loves to see me in
this figure, they, those bats.
Even the air around me
notices, the off chords—
a new song, barely, a
tree looking back
from the other half
feeling sorry for me
but cheering. Me: grin.
Travel from block here
to corner here.
Agreeably incensed.
—Michael Madigan, Santa Rosa
A fence, chains pointed, separating the
cupped sanity from obligation's
quills. Once humorous, now a
strangle. How it loves to see me in
this figure, they, those bats.
Even the air around me
notices, the off chords—
a new song, barely, a
tree looking back
from the other half
feeling sorry for me
but cheering. Me: grin.
Travel from block here
to corner here.
Agreeably incensed.
______________________
A FEW DAYS AFTER YOUR PASSING
(for Poet Mary Rudge, 1928-2014)
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole
Mary, after the poetry gathering
where images of you whirled,
crashed, rose upward & crashed again
I'm home. Your "Poem Garden" slim books
silky white, staples like twin page-kisses,
gaze & gaze at me. One cover a pink
water lily photographed in China—
the other your collage from a photo
of your great-granddaughter in pink tutu
& ballet slippers, standing
in circle of a flower wreath,
favoring you around the cheeks.
Child "Jennifer" is holding a huge
fluffy flower, a repository for
poignant phrases you left us?
______________________
Today's LittleNip:
HEROINES
—Claire J. Baker
I foolishly tried to
walk in your footsteps.
Upon finding my steps
shorter
and
wider
I forged
my own path
as you would want.
(An earlier poem for Mary Rudge
from a 40+ year friendship)
_____________________
(for Poet Mary Rudge, 1928-2014)
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole
Mary, after the poetry gathering
where images of you whirled,
crashed, rose upward & crashed again
I'm home. Your "Poem Garden" slim books
silky white, staples like twin page-kisses,
gaze & gaze at me. One cover a pink
water lily photographed in China—
the other your collage from a photo
of your great-granddaughter in pink tutu
& ballet slippers, standing
in circle of a flower wreath,
favoring you around the cheeks.
Child "Jennifer" is holding a huge
fluffy flower, a repository for
poignant phrases you left us?
______________________
Today's LittleNip:
HEROINES
—Claire J. Baker
I foolishly tried to
walk in your footsteps.
Upon finding my steps
shorter
and
wider
I forged
my own path
as you would want.
(An earlier poem for Mary Rudge
from a 40+ year friendship)
_____________________
—Medusa, with thanks to today's contributors, and a reminder that there are some poetry events coming up in our area; scroll down to the blue box (below the green box) in the column at the right of this one for all the happenings. Warning: there's an "e-flyer" going around advertising Sable & Quill, the Sac. Poetry Center art event curated by Jennifer Pickering, that says it's happening on Monday, Feb. 8. T'ain't so: February 8 is SATURDAY. So the event is this coming Saturday. Check it out!
Sunset
—Photo by Katy Brown
