Fire Spreads Quickly
—Photo by Katy Brown, Davis, CA
A CHIMNEY STANDS WITHOUT ITS HOUSE
—Dewell H. Byrd, Central Point, OR
Leans toward charred rose bushes
on the creek side of the Paradise
Wildfire.
Rumpled sky lowers its gray hand,
stirs the ash of yesterday’s home…
vacant spirit.
A scorched rag doll weeps,
absorbs pungent smoke…
silent sponge.
Fireweed thrives, welcomes bees.
Bless the insects and the weeds
that have the tenacity to do
the endless work of reclamation.
—Photo by Chris Moon
BARN
—Kevin Jones, Elk Grove, CA
This is not the barn
You're looking for.
Most barns
Are rectangular,
Or at least square.
This barn is
Round. Round
Barns are not
Places for tragedy.
Only mistakes
And repetition.
—Photo by Chris Moon
TURKEYS
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
(with sincere apologies
to Joyce Kilmer)
I think that I shall never see
A dinner lovely as a turkey.
A family whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the wings, and thighs, and breast;
A turkey that looks at fire all day,
A string, lest meaty wings would stray;
A turkey that may in summer wear
A nest of sweet potatoes at the fair;
Upon whose bosom knives have cut;
Who intimately lives with stuffing gut.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only Mom can cook a turkey.
Ground Squirrel
—Photo by Katy Brown, Davis, CA
BELIEVE ME!
—Caschwa
I don’t claim to BE
Napoleon Bonaparte,
just found his cell phone
***
Well I’m sure he said
to re-chord the sheet music,
so what’s the big fuss?
***
Russian intrusion,
what could possibly go wrong?
Let me out of here.
***
I pledge allegiance
to the net earnings of the
money invested
***
White collar workers
depend on people who farm,
or nobody eats
***
Just went golfing and
I forgot to take along
my back seat driver
***
Magnificent butt!!
Puff, puff, inhale, puff, inhale
No, I am not hooked.
Vista
—Photo by Katy Brown
DON’T EVEN ASK
—Caschwa
Pluto no longer
a planet, but poker is
an athletic sport?
***
Pledge allegiance to
the flag of the United
States, or are they still?
***
Which side of the brain
controls someone who cannot
discern left from right?
***
Why tally votes by sex,
race, and age, not left handed
coma survivors?
***
Price of gasoline
at pump ends with tenths of cent,
why don’t they round it?
***
The filling they put
in potholes in the road does
not last, why bother?
***
You need six lucky
numbers to win, however
six is unlucky
Room With a View
—Photo by Katy Brown
FIRST YOUR PENNY
—Caschwa
At the recycling center they
offer bins for cans and bottles
pre-measured for tare weight
so they just place the bin onto
the scale, deduct the tare weight
and move on to the next bin.
Able bodied men take big, heavy
clusters of compressed matter
and use an electric lift to elevate
all of that onto a truck for transport.
The system works fine, day in and
day out. Life is good.
At the hospital they receive grannies
in walkers or wheelchairs and leave
it for them to face the struggle of
maneuvering themselves out of their
chair to step onto a scale, back into
their chair and then off again to climb
high up onto an examination table.
Digest that for a moment. Old cans
and bottles receive more help than
granny.
We Are Small
—Photo by Katy Brown
CANNOT CRY FOR HELP
—Caschwa
A friend’s year old baby is enjoying the quietude
of nonverbal autism
spared all the media sensationalism devoted
to barbarian drama
bathing instead in the nonjudgmental vibrations that come
from his mother’s pianoforte
both tired parents searching intensely for professional
guidance in Sacramento
though the radar does not find appropriate providers any
closer than Salinas
Building Row
—Photo by Katy Brown
JIFFY-POP POETRY
—Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA
When you are a poet-laureate,
For some city, large or small,
Earning a small stipend,
They expect you to write
Fine poems on demand,
On any given subject,
Relevant, at the time,
To that particular municipality,
As though fine poems of the mundane
Could be quickly summoned up,
And written down,
As readily as popcorn
Can be puffed up from Jiffy-Pop.
Well, it’s a gig, right?
And poets never get paid much,
Most of the time;
So why not give it a shot
And pop something up, like Jiffy-Pop?
How hard could it be to do,
With your vivid imagination?
You’re familiar with the location,
Since you live here,
And know all the taco-trucks?
And the homeless folks,
Out of luck
Who slumber in shade
In the refuge they’ve made
To get out of the glare of the sun:
A portal, so small, so hard-won!
Well, it’s great to be a poet,
But don’t speak too clearly of suffering,
Because most of us already know it.
We’d rather you say
Something pleasant, instead,
To get that mess out of our head.
Make us believe in the wonders
Of walking along, downtown
Among the shops, cafes and bakeries
And art-shops that surround.
Make us believe that our city
Is a wonderful place to be,
Despite the homeless people
That sleep in store-doorways for free.
Pillar
—Photo by Katy Brown
DEPENDING ON THE WEATHER
—Joseph Nolan
Some things last
While others break.
It’s a matter of chance
And what’s at stake
And who is in control.
I’d like to take you
On a roll
Across a farmer’s field
Where planted crops,
Row on row
Were hoped to bring a yield,
But depending on the weather
They would or not,
And whether,
Could not,
In advance,
Be told.
Beach Grass
—Photo by Katy Brown
TRAINS
—Joseph Nolan
In early-morning’s night,
Well before dawn,
I hear freight-trains rumbling.
Steel-wheels, heavy-laden,
Into darkness, drawn.
As the years go by
I hear they’re growing louder
From three miles away.
Or maybe I’m just sleeping lighter
And feel their presence
More than before
From three miles away.
Note Helicopter
—Photo by Katy Brown
FOR THE CAMERAS
—Joseph Nolan
Trying to be nice!
It’s hard to be nice
When your town
Has burned down.
Trying to be civil
Through burning, grieving rage
When talking to
TV reporters, who demand you emote
For the camera, to go on TV
Or under a microscopic slide,
When what they want is tears.
Cursing is prohibited by the FCC
It’s too realistic and
TV viewing audiences containing children
Might be triggered if you tell them
How you really feel about all
This ##@@$%^$^#%#%^##!!!!!!!
So you have to stifle yourself for the cameras.
_____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
A STRANGER’S DREAM
—Joseph Nolan
I slipped out from a womb.
I’ll be shoved into a tomb
When my time comes.
Betwixt the now and thence
I wish I could make sense
Of all the strange coincidence
That I see ‘twixt and ‘tween
Or know what it might mean?
My life is a stranger’s dream!
______________________
Many thanks to our many contributors today! Photos include those of Katy Brown, some of which are of a fire previous to the one in Paradise, and Carol Louise Moon’s brother, Chris Moon, for his wonderful barns, our Seed of the Week. (See more of his work at www.ckmphotography.com/.) Those who wrote about the Camp Fire tragedy include returning Snake Pal Dewell Byrd, who used to be a frequent part of Rattlesnake Review. Welcome back, Dewell!
On Saturday, January 6, from 12-2pm, you are cordially invited to enter 3-5 artworks to the SPC fundraiser art show at the Sacramento Poetry Center Art Gallery entitled Paradise Relief: An Invitational Art Show to Benefit the Camp Fire Victims, curated by Bethanie Humphreys and Heather Judy. Info: www.facebook.com/events/202445027323910/?active_tab=about/. For questions, or to receive the entry form, please message or e-mail Bethanie Humphreys at bethaniehu@hotmail.com/.
Poetry events in our area this week begin tonight with POETRY WITH CAPES, a poetic presentation from the Church of the Illuminated Monkey, with Dave Boles and D.R. Wagner, plus open mic. Bring your poetry (or someone else’s) and wear a cape in the long tradition of cape-wearing poets. [See www.sacramentopoetrycenter.com for more about this cape business.] And Poetic License will meet in Placerville on Saturday from 2-4pm at the Placerville Sr. Center lobby on Spring Street. The suggested topic is "dancing", but other topics also welcome.
Otherwise, it looks like a quiet week, which is just as well, with this smoky air and Thanksgiving doings elsewhere. Since Thursday is Thanksgiving, I’m assuming there will be no Poetry Unplugged at Luna’s Cafe. But scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.
—Medusa
Tragic End of a Barn
—Photo by Katy Brown
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
