Thursday, March 09, 2017

Nature's Mark

—Anonymous Drawing
—Poems by B.Z. Niditch, Brookline, MA


Nature's mark
left my initials
on the bark of an Elm
amazing me
who wrote this
after an urban reading
at the art club after many years
near the local vineyard
as an unexpected breeze
curved its branches back
on the earth affectionately
by a windy day before spring
as we are feeding the birds
feeling overwhelmed
by the vulnerability
which made an impression
in part to share
at our ability in vocal words
on the dark wood
dubbed in expression
in our neighborhood.

 A Bird in the Hand...
(Hummingbirds Feeding From Nectar)


The sky
all of a sudden
is pitch-black
as local teens
play soccer, anyway
crashing a ball
like a missile
among snapshots
as my cat
is caught
in the thistles
of rose bushes
in that vocal free-for-all.


Hurricanes/   into the night
unsettled earthquakes/   exchanged
  into strange weather sources
  with shock waves
forecasting/a climate pattern like
eccentric poetry
        or concentric
or geometric art on one hand
painting us on the deck
in a fracking time line
finding a bird feather on land
   no one expected to see a rebirth
in light years appearing
     again without expiration
to suppress the evidence
or a flaw of sequences into
a failure of dates
within a tempest of course
especially the weather/ phenomena
     the Manhattan critics
once correctly
vehemently saw
only in Lautrec.

 Blackbird in Flight


Vibes of a flat skier
in a third of a second
to stay aerodynamic
in split standings
by downhills
blinking away
playing and chopping
in the slide of the snow
with a chance thrill
of a slalom
in an appointment
by muzzling his scarf
separating the field
from other gliders
entering the language
in fourth-position turns
without a speeding
as his constraint slides
into shielding momentum
of a run-and-jump
noticing a blackbird
on a branch
in an abrupt perception
at the terrain
that suddenly gives away
to an avalanche.

 Swan Nests as Tourists Watch from Swan Boat
Charles River, Boston, MA


   with a swan lake
of ice skating
   in the local pond
   as shadows of winter
give us away
hearing a duo
of violin and cello
playing a spider man
jazz melody
we are outsiders
 from windows
 looking into a wellspring,
eating pistachios and almonds
from a Cambridge library
a line of sparrows
from the Canadian hinterland
who sing on Longfellow Bridge
when we suddenly converse with
two visiting Russian women
in the dawn reading Pushkin
      to their children
in the shadows
planting saplings.

 A Line of Sparrows


Reviewing a montage
of Italian films,
Fellini, Pasolini,
and Roberto Rossellini
blinds drawn
this February
here in my garage
with an old scene
of a James Dean motorcycle
flashing its lights at dawn
my memory returns to me
of the tiny art theater
on Symphony Row
in Boston
where, after my music lesson
of harmony, solfeggio
strings and playing piano chords
an adolescent would go alone
to a two-for-one matinee show
after a having a meal
of a cheese croissant
with fish chowder
steak and potato
with pocket money
from my great-aunt Sarah
then walk to the waterfront
from my apartment
in the day's enlarged sunlight
wishing to travel on swan boats
awakening by the opera balcony
opening as my cousin Rita
dressed in red
sings the Carmen arias
with the Habanera all day
going through my head
I'm ending Saturday night
with a poet's lonely words
in a deposit
of new diary entry
watching a bluebird
on a snowy Evergreen tree
from my sofa bed.


Today’s LittleNip:

—B.Z. Niditch

A city moon
in the undershirt
of a breath of wind
by the seashore
taken by surprise
on a now-leafless tree
moving a March of nuances
from clouds
which wisely dance
between sleeping houses
at a shivering pace.

 Two Swans a-Swimming with Cygnets
(and no, they're not REALLY ugly ducklings...)

Our thanks to B.Z. Niditch for his poetry today, as spring tickles his toes back there on the Other Coast. Our Seed of the Week is Birdsong, which gives me plenty of chances to post photos of birds, as does this lovely collection of poems by BZ, almost all of which mention birds. For more photos of Boston, including the swan boats on the Charles River and much more, go to

Poets in our area have the opportunity to go to downtown Sacramento tonight to hear ChaRon Smith’s “Split Personality”, plus open mic, at Poetry Unplugged at Luna’s Cafe, 1414 16th St. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about this and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.


 Celebrate the poetry of puns!

Photos in this column can be enlarged by clicking on them once,
then click on the X in the top right corner to come back
to Medusa.