—Poems and Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA
AUGUST SONG
(a Roundel)
A single leaf has fallen from the oak
still green, sighing summer’s recitatif
in morning breeze. The shifting sun awoke
a single leaf
outside our window. July’s reign was brief.
Scrub jay calls raucous as a corvid joke
shadowing slanted light in bird-relief:
Oh how those human-beings don a cloak
of omen, portent, coming joy or grief.
A fallen feather like a puff of smoke,
a single leaf.
BEAUTY, DEVASTATION
Smoke the other side of ridge, sirens—fire
trucks up country two-lane just below our hill.
A plume of smoke—rococo tones of beige
tinged with amber gray-blue.
On the news: highway shut down, evacuations.
From our hill-view, a plane loses itself
in smoke circling rising, invisible by moments.
Smoke billowing from home ground.
I aim my iPad. Is it true, snapping a photo
saps the subject’s spirit? the fire’s rage.
Here’s my proof in picture on air diffusing.
Ghostly beautiful the plume.
WHAT’S BEAUTIFUL
It’s Cleanup Nature season. Weed-eating. Breaking up slash piles from storm-fall oaks—tinder, kindling, sticks. Sawing dead limbs out of trees. This morning I rid a liveoak of its witch’s broom, reducing fire hazard, making our rough hillside a bit more parklike, opening the view. Down on the two-lane, rattle-clack of gravel truck … neighbor’s garish new paint job … something plastic in the ditch …. Witch’s broom—deformity, but the tree’s alive. Maybe I liked a witch’s-broom view better,
veil of tangled dark
fingers of a gnarly hand,
moody, brooding woods
NO ROAD SIGN
Hardpan turnout pocked to tap
the oil-pan—collapsed
dome-tent (no poles) as sundial
under August noon—
no trees to shadow—no gnomon
to tell the hour—
fresh cigarette butt
as proof some human was here
not so long ago.
Lock the car, find a rutted
spur-road. Sentinel
pine stands scarred by wildfire.
But young fir’s fanning
soft fingers, high as my head.
Ponderosa pine,
deer-brush heavy with berries.
Black oak seedlings, leaf
shadow. Such a deep blue sky.
Breeze muffles speeding
traffic noise. I could lose my-
self in tangled green.
ORBITS
A veil across my eye, mist
in the corner… in dawning light
one eye still asleep
as a half moon sleeps
and beams. All day I could see
it imperfectly…
a blossom partially opening.
Squash flower’s
fading petals, golden
clinging to the globe
of a pale green tomato
sleeping… not yet awake
not ripened
in the corner of a garden
full of sun.
GAME OF EYES
Zuihitsu
October-in-August. Laundry flaps on the line, a mild cloudy breeze in fire season.
A spirit’s in an old white T-shirt to sleep in, neck unraveling, dingy with dreams.
By accident I hit Cancel Format,
trying to decipher leaf language of the pepper tree.
Eucalyptus always ghosted, reaching for flame.
I’ll pick the socks off the line.
Pairing’s a pain,
those surviving the wash I match by their holes:
heel, toe. A junior high school dance.
Too old for haunted houses but we never outgrow
tricks and treats. We just choose
adult costumes. Always shape-shifting.
Zuihitsu: A running brush… movement of the wind.
Flit of bushtit in privet
sparked our old black cat through glass.
Romance-of-the-wild caught cat.
Was owl his last dance?
Today’s LittleNip:
KITCHEN GARDEN
—Taylor Graham
Golden squash flower
clings to a green tomato.
Can it be true love?
But why no more zucchini?
Oh, why no ripening red?
___________________
Thursday thank-yous to Taylor Graham for her poems and photos, and hopes that those fingers of forest fire never come close to her and her home! She will be having a busy weekend, starting on Saturday at 9:30am at Sac. Poetry Center with Writers on the Air, featuring Taylor Graham, Sue Crisp, Carol Lynn Stevenson Grellas, and Jennifer O’Neill Pickering. Later on Saturday, 2pm, she will be one of the poets at the Poetic License read-around at the Placerville Sr. Center in Placerville. Then on Sunday, starting at 10am, she and Katy Brown will facilitate a writing workshop at Wakamatsu Farm in Placerville. 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.
For more about zuihitsu, see poetryschool.com/new-courses/follow-brush-making-zuihitsu-poetry/.
—Medusa, celebrating poetry!
—Anonymous Photo
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