Wednesday, March 13, 2019

Leading Me Through the Desert

—Poems by Ann Wehrman, Sacramento, CA
—Photos by R. Christopher Feldman



TREE SISTER

cold metal bench

painted black by the city
trash bin reeks on my left
but early spring breeze
diffuses the smell
sun smiles,
fills late afternoon with warm light
I wait for the bus
for insight, instinct to guide my feet
just beyond the trash bin
grounded in earth bright green
from winter’s heavy rain
slim, strong redwood
dances in the wind
her beautiful plump
deep-green needles softly wave
her greeting opens my sad heart—
companionable presence
bobbing in the breeze
rich plaits tipped in reddish gold
like new seeds glowing in sunlight
like diamonds 



 Signs



BLACK DESERT NIGHT

You lead me
through black desert night.
Obsidian deep,
the velvet sky blazes
with red, yellow, blue-white stars,
the absent moon fails to guide us.
“Just trust me,” you whisper.

Milk-white, night-opening blossoms
carpet the desert floor,
their faces glow with stellar radiance,
our feet thread carefully through them.
I follow you.


(first pub. in Toyon, Humboldt State University Literary Journal, 2000)



 Squirrel



...but that might not have been what you were thinking...

in the photo you took that day
one you sent me after you flew home
squirrel peers out
camouflaged on his perch
twigs festooned with
desert mistletoe
jet eyes like a smile
timid, friendly

inside, teaching yoga class
I’d asked you to join us
or maybe wait at Starbucks down the street
but you chose to wander the park
drinking heady oxygen from the trees
cold, clear air after rain, early January

I wrapped up class
you met me at the door
eyes bright
shy, excited at once



 Abstract Starfield



TO FOMALHAUT

oh, solitary one, Fomalhaut
lonely autumn star
what do you feel as time stands still
400 million years or more
in your rainbow-shrouded darkness
time to remember, digest, forgive
time spent alone
at the edge of the world

life proceeds
pleasure, pain tip scales right, left
you remain untouched, silent, alone
will you host new worlds someday
will planets spin around you
will we someday know
your surface skin, your fiery heart
your life-giving warmth
your inevitable cooling and death


(first pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 2012)



 Poles Abstract



FANCY DANCER
After Claude McKay’s “The Harlem Dancer”

the pole gleams silver
my hand grips it loosely
body jerks, swings around it
keeps careful balance

music beats on
hotter, faster
long hair twists, hips flick
around, around

eager youth approaches
tucks a bill through
sequined straps stretched
tightly across my flesh

I twist away
flash an empty smile
one more dollar
toward the rent


(first pub. in The Matrix, Humboldt State University, 2000)



 Desert in Bloom



IN THE GARDEN

The immense pine stands in the center
of a dark green ocean of prayer plants,
their soft, triangular leaves folded in its shadow.

Lofty branches spiral from just above the base,
its trunk spans wide and warm.

I long to run over,
curl up next to its rough wood, and sleep;
I want to come back someday
with my lover,
spend long twilight hours
in this tree’s welcoming lap,
let it warm us throughout the night.


(first pub. in Inside (love poems), Rattlesnake Press, 2011)



 Kitchen



Today’s LittleNip:

DINNERS AT NANA’S

—Ann Wehrman

I sit in my room
as Nana cooks,
smell the deep pungency
of sirloin steak broiling,
the crisp, baking
chocolate sweetness
of layer cake
in the oven.
Setting the table,
I notice Pepsi
bubbling over ice,
bright red, plump,
fresh strawberries.
At Nana’s, I am never
made to diet.

__________________

Many thanks to Ann Wehrman today for her fine poetry, and to her friend and Medusa-newcomer Christopher Feldman for his photos! R. Christopher Feldman has been a photographer since he was sixteen and says he should probably be much better at it by now. He has a B.A. in Religious Studies and an M.A. in Asian Cultures with an emphasis on religion & magick in Japanese popular culture, and currently teaches Globalization Studies at a private university. He is a bishop of the Ecclesia Gnostica Catholica and has led seminars on esotericism and cultural studies at ecumenical conferences for close to thirty years. Welcome to the Kitchen, Christopher, and don’t be a stranger!



 Chris Feldman


Today, 5pm, Poetry Off-the-Shelves meets at the El Dorado County Library on Fair Lane in Placerville; and MarieWriters Generative Writing Workshop meets at Sac. Poetry Center, 6pm, facilitated this week by Ann Michaels.

Tomorrow, another workshop will take place in Sacramento from 11:30am-1:30pm: Wellspring Women’s Writing Workshop will meet at the Wellspring Women’s Center, 3414 4th Av., facilitated by Sue Daly. 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 more may be added at the last minute.

—Medusa



 Ann reads at The Book Collector, 2011












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.