Monday, March 09, 2020

Hello, Mother-Ship!

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Sue Crisp

—Sue Crisp, Shingle Springs, CA

The old rancher sat lost in thought,
his head wreathed in cigarette smoke,
trying to squash his annoyance for
being so forgetful.

Finally, he gave up trying to jog his
memory into remembering what his
current task was, and sat contemplating
the dandelion at the edge of the porch
dancing in the gentle breeze, its seeds
taking flight in search of a new home.

 —Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Sue Crisp

—Sue Crisp

We wait, semi-embracing winter,
to feel the beginning of spring.
Winter loosens its hold day by day,
but old iceman winter, knows he’s still king.

Finally, we begin to feel the thaw
of his stubborn frigid hold,
and we see the beginning
emergence of small plants, bold.

We’re so thrilled to see these tiny
bits of green, from surviving seeds,
natures way of signaling a seasonal change.
But, thrilled smiles turn to frowns, as we see they’re just weeds.

—Kevin Jones, Elk Grove, CA

They are surely
Flowers we
Have not yet
Found a use
For, said
Emerson at
His most
Henry did
Most all
The heavy
And weeding
And flowers
That fester...
Yeah, we
Know all
That, Bill.
Weeding in
The roses—
Painful. Weeding
In the library
Much more so.
Is it ten
Weeds every
Or every
Ten days
A weed?
Felt the need
To travel
To Weed. 

 Got Snacks?
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA

—Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA

The lake gave out
An 8-pound trout.
The river, two at 3.

And so it was,
We had fish to eat,
Enough for a little party.

We burned our fire
Down to coals
Red, and softly glowing

And wrapped our
Finest dinner treasure
Tightly up in foil.

We poured our beer
Into bright, red cups
And smelled our trout

—Joseph Nolan

The old top-buck
Didn’t want to let go
Of any of his old-does.

When time to rut,
He’d still strut his stuff
Like he was still “all-that.”

Truth was,
He’d grown older
And muscle
Had turned
To fat,
And the old, top-buck
Had to learn how hard
It can go
For old bucks.

When he would lose a doe,
He’d call his old-doe a “ho”
Before he’d let her go.

He was a mean old buck,
That’s for sure!
His love no longer pure,
But tainted by possession,
Despite his sad regression,
Into old age.

The does would say,
“What a sad, old buck!
Look at his lack of gratitude.
We used to let him
Stick his buck-dick in
The place where it likes to go
Into the soft, sweet, juicy spot
On the back of us in-heat does!”

—Joseph Nolan

The heroes of the
Obituary page
Set out every morning
In single-column form
Marching toward the grave,
As though together.

Each life displayed
Important facts all saved,
Each one
Conquering some corner
Of life
Or of the world,
A husband left behind
Or a wife,
Or children, grandchildren
And spouses,
If any there were
Or were before.

The guy who writes these up
Must have s strange gift
To grace us with
Such terse summations.

“Why don’t you look at
The sports-page, instead?
You morbid wretch!”
I hear my wife kvetch. 

—Joseph Nolan

Hello, mother-ship,
I’m waiting to be brought home.
Not unlike E.T.
Or some other
Small, strange gnome.

I wonder what
I’ve done in life
That might
Let me feign a hero
In the eyes
Of my

What could she tell her
Neighbors and friends
After I’ve gone,
And our marriage has ended,
About how I was worthy
For her
To spend
Her life

Well, maybe
I’ve not
Been a hero?
I’ve just been
A mensch:
Someone who tried
To get along,
After age
Put him

—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

after Simple Simon
split from the pie man
he met a Yorkshire
terrorist walking
to the faire

said Simple Simon
to the terrorist,
show me one picture
to validate your odd structure
our system to rupture
from Iowa to New Hampshire

said the terrorist
to Simple Simon,
show me first your
articles of incorporation
for my cooperation
you’re far below my station

said Simple Simon
to the terrorist,
indeed I haven’t any
idea what you are
talking about!


Earth seeks life
life seeks birth
birth seeks worth

worth seeks breath
breath seeks air
air seeks lungs

lungs seek tongue
tongue seeks words
words seek ears

ears seek music
music seeks heart
heart seeks soul

soul seeks meaning
meaning seeks context
context seeks relevance

relevance seeks truth
truth seeks, and seeks
and seeks, and seeks 


It leaves the distinct impression of someone
impersonating the real police when
a stranger with a badge and a gun
attacks like a lion protecting its den
imposing harsh punishment on some poor soul
for not promptly obeying barked commands
as if the confrontation’s primary goal
was disarming a man with empty hands
a real officer would have followed the course
of taking the suspect downtown to be booked
detaining the rascal without deadly force
then checking the record to see what they’ve hooked
but when this POTUS himself is the “chief of police”
we lose any hope of ever keeping the peace 


we make it a serious point
to avoid all feeling
a little wine to anoint
lotion to prevent peeling

windows double paned
mute button on remote
excuses for weight gained
such as injury or bloat

machines to answer calls
delegates to speak our piece
we use mannequins and dolls
not the owner, just a lease

electronic clever brains
are the new normal face to face
nonjudgmental about stains
or sex or age or race

liaison with a humanoid
is our new legacy
all that tact we once deployed
is now released and free

sit down, relax, and rest your feet
there’s no more lies to tell
add extra ice if you’re in heat
all’s well that ends. well?


Today’s LittleNip:

—Joseph Nolan

Sweetness is dew!
Upon the morning grass
Sparkling dawn’s fresh, bright light
Into dreams that last
Throughout the day,
By sundown,
They may have gone away.


Good morning Monday, and thank-yous to Sue Crisp, Joseph Nolan, Kevin Jones and Carl “Caschwa” Schwartz for their usual fine, eclectic contributions to a new week, including our current Seed of the Week: Weeds! Carl says, “I guess I should warn people: I have a poem and I’m not afraid to use it!” Hopefully, that applies to all of you out there: you do have poems, and you must not be afraid to use them! So don’t be shy—send poems and visuals to The Snakes of Medusa are always hungry!

Swan Scythe Press announces its chapbook contest; deadline is June 15. Info:

Poetry events in our area this week include:

•••Tonight: Sac. Poetry Center features Anara Guard, Gay Guard-Chamberlin plus open mic at 25th and R Sts., Sac., 7:30pm;

•••Wed.: Thee Word Thing features Bill Gainer plus open mic (sign-ups at 7:30pm, readers at 8pm). Shine, 1400 E St., Sac.

•••Thurs.: Wellspring Women’s Writing Group meets at 11:30am at Wellspring Women’s Center, 3414 4th Av. in Sac. Then at 8pm, Poetry Unplugged at Luna’s Cafe & Juice Bar features Josh Fernandez plus open mic, 1414 16th St., Sac.

•••Sat.: Poetry and Spoken Word kick-off for 2nd/4th Sat. events of poetry, comedy, music, food, fun shopping at 523Moonlite, 2245 Florin Rd. #2, Sac., 9pm.

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.

Interested in workshops? Check the green box at the right for a listing of local ones which will be held this week and/or later.


—Medusa, celebrating so many fine poets in our area ~ !

 Okay, so the flamingos of Medusa are always hungry…
—Public Domain Photo

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