Thursday, August 09, 2018

Leaf-Song Dance

—Poems and Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA



YOU NEED THE WITCH’S CABIN KEY

A world of transformations, spells beyond
the familiar words and works of human hands.
The woods are burning, neighborhoods. Propane
tanks exploding houses, cabins, sheds—
what remains is ash when the fire will be dead—
subjunctive uncertain future tense.
Surreal. Evacuated. But you drove back in,
dodged the roadblocks, searched out the marked
front door. Two live dogs left behind. The key
is native stubbornness or courage, entering
Surreal’s dominion for a dog’s brown eye,
dogs of friend or stranger.






AUGUST GOLD

A trail climbs through quilted periwinkle,
remnant of old homestead, and the pale gold
lacework of peavine brittle, rattling as I pass.
Some chunks of crystal quartz glitter beside
the path to an old mine—cordoned off, dead.
And still, the dark of underground draws me
like a spell. I won’t go in. It keeps stone
secrets— the pull of gold from deep inside—
such things the mountain knows. I start back down
the trail, then stop—and notice what I missed
before. Among dead grasses, late-summer
madia—gold petal-wheels on stalks so slim,
they float on air, as tiny bees bow down
the blooms. This dance of floating gold with bees.






SONG OF ASPEN

Construction zone, orange traffic cones belying wilderness just ahead. Roadside aspen stand statue, every leaf silent. Released at last by flagman, I take a dead-end spur promising no view. Lodgepole, sage, unthrifty juniper; colossal ruins of a forest giant that had been. I push through brush. Surprise! a pond I never suspected, all the times we’ve driven past, those long-gone summers. At its edge, wet-meadow paintbrush, lavish orange.

a sudden breeze sets
all the aspen quivering
in a leaf-song dance






DEVIL’S GARDEN VISTA

Today, no one stops to admire the view.
From distant fires the sky is gauzy gray,
canyon veiled in smoke. Devilish or divine,

this garden’s awesome under skies of blue,
a boulder jumble-land, a bald display
of what earth’s natural forces can design.

Today the panorama’s cloaked, it’s true.
I’ll just stop to take a look, anyway.
At highway’s edge, this vista is all mine.






FRITILLARIES

What made us leave our charted road?
An impulse, idle whim, these things
that pull us from our journeyings
for good or ill; an episode

of butterflies! bright orange, they rode
white yampah blooms, and on their wings—
what made us leave our charted road?
an impulse, idle whim—these things

appear unasked, a motherlode
of wonder—on their flutter-wings
they bore dark runic copyings
in arabesques, a secret code
to make us leave our charted road.






Today’s (Longer)Nip:

IN THE KITCHEN
—Taylor Graham

(reply to Katy Brown’s “Marked for Friendship”)

Oh, these chefs are sneaky—call ‘em poets,
always improvising for the spice and substance
of a dish. One by one they slip into the kitchen
at odd hours, midnight or dark-four-thirty,
whenever inspiration strikes. Each adds a dash
of something to the gleaming pot—
a word adventuring the marginalia-marked
recipe in a new direction. That one hums a jitter-
ditty while simmering the stew, a taste, a sniff;
plucking a phrase, a line or rhythm as if
from rising steam. The next chef adds some
fresh ingredient, a foot of wild game—
isn’t this a game, as nourishing as any
to the spirit? a dash of blackberry,
ripe off puncture-bramble on the trail; a riff
on French piano to jazz the flavor. Our combo
takes to mixing metaphor. On exiting
the kitchen, a moment’s bragging rights. Then,
where will the next chef take it? This is how
they share, each spoon in the pot,
a voice in never-finished conversation.
This stew could last forever.





 ___________________________



Many thanks to Taylor Graham for today’s lovely stew of poems and pix! (Jitter-ditty!)

Lots to do today in local poetry! This morning, 11:30, women are encouraged to attend the monthly Wellspring Women’s Writing Group for poetry, memoir, prose and journaling at the Wellspring Women’s Center (upstairs), hosted by Sue Daly. Then this evening, Poetry Unplugged at Luna’s Cafe meets in Sac. for featured readers and open mic. 

Or, from 7:45-10:30pm tonight, Rhythm & Poetry will hold an open mic at the Brazilian Center for Cultural Exchange, 2420 N St., Ste. 180, Sacramento. Host: Dyvacat & Graffiti_Bleu. For info and to buy tix ($8), go to gbleu.com/events/rhythm-poetry-august-9th-open-mic, or to www.facebook.com/events/443113779519089/?active_tab=about/. (Free drink with tix bought online.) Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about these and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that ya gotta watch Medusa—more events may be added at the last minute (and usually are!).

—Medusa



 Fire-sun
—Photo by Taylor Graham
Celebrate Poetry!












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.