—Poetry by Sue Crisp, Joseph Nolan, Michael Ceraolo,
Caschwa (Carl Schwartz)
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA
SURVIVAL
—Sue Crisp, Shingle Springs, CA
Peace and tranquility
can be as fleeting as a
white dove in flight at
the shadow of a Hawk
from above.
sky shadow on ground
wings of white flare upward bound
talons miss their mark
—Sue Crisp, Shingle Springs, CA
Peace and tranquility
can be as fleeting as a
white dove in flight at
the shadow of a Hawk
from above.
sky shadow on ground
wings of white flare upward bound
talons miss their mark
—Public Domain Photo, Medusa’s Kitchen's
Seed of the Week (2/15-21/2021), "Peace"
Seed of the Week (2/15-21/2021), "Peace"
DUCK, FLOATING SMOOTHLY
—Joseph Nolan
I’m just floating smoothly
Atop the water’s sheen
Like a duck
Whose webbed-feet
Blow idle-minded wishes
Into underneath,
Where green weeds grow.
As I swim
Across this lake
Water will record
My tiny wake
That time
Will soon forsake
And smoothness,
Soon retake.
THE HONEST ACCOUNTANT
—Joseph Nolan
There was an honest accountant
Who could never find any work.
Everyone wanted to lie and cheat
To keep all they could
From the government.
No amount of money
Was too small
Over which to defraud:
“It all adds up, you know,
And you must grab
For all that you can!
Did you see our noble Governor
Eating the best at French Laundry?
And he did it all mask-less,
As though he had no shame!
One of two things
Must be true:
Either our taxes were being wasted
Or the people were being screwed,
Since it was just bribery
If the rich-guys were paying the bill.
Our taxes just go
To pay for this shit
And they always will,”
Said the client.
—Joseph Nolan
There was an honest accountant
Who could never find any work.
Everyone wanted to lie and cheat
To keep all they could
From the government.
No amount of money
Was too small
Over which to defraud:
“It all adds up, you know,
And you must grab
For all that you can!
Did you see our noble Governor
Eating the best at French Laundry?
And he did it all mask-less,
As though he had no shame!
One of two things
Must be true:
Either our taxes were being wasted
Or the people were being screwed,
Since it was just bribery
If the rich-guys were paying the bill.
Our taxes just go
To pay for this shit
And they always will,”
Said the client.
THE DISAPPEARING MAN
—Joseph Nolan
He learned that he was nothing
When he disappeared.
His friends, too, all gone far away.
The business patrons he used to see
Come, not, anymore.
Even Tule fog
That used to fill his Valley
In the winter
Finds things, now, too warm
To hang around.
It’s been hard
Watching things shut down.
There’s no place left to go.
The world’s all full of fear.
—Joseph Nolan
He learned that he was nothing
When he disappeared.
His friends, too, all gone far away.
The business patrons he used to see
Come, not, anymore.
Even Tule fog
That used to fill his Valley
In the winter
Finds things, now, too warm
To hang around.
It’s been hard
Watching things shut down.
There’s no place left to go.
The world’s all full of fear.
THE SLAUGHTER OF THE BUFFALO
—Joseph Nolan
I slaughtered a thousand buffalo
Shooting from passing trains,
Leaving them rotting
In August sunshine,
On Indian Country’s plains.
I never felt
Any regret
For starving the Indians out,
Since I was one of the White Men,
Manifest Destiny was all about.
What we wanted
That’s theirs,
We took it.
Whatever was theirs,
We broke it.
That’s the way it goes
When you swallow
A continent, whole,
From shore to shining shore
And have to disperse
All those who would curse
Your national,
Crushing reverse.
—Joseph Nolan
I slaughtered a thousand buffalo
Shooting from passing trains,
Leaving them rotting
In August sunshine,
On Indian Country’s plains.
I never felt
Any regret
For starving the Indians out,
Since I was one of the White Men,
Manifest Destiny was all about.
What we wanted
That’s theirs,
We took it.
Whatever was theirs,
We broke it.
That’s the way it goes
When you swallow
A continent, whole,
From shore to shining shore
And have to disperse
All those who would curse
Your national,
Crushing reverse.
Our sympathies to the residents of Texas for
the weather problems and shortages they're
suffering from right now.
UPON THE EARTH FOR BUT A DAY
—Joseph Nolan
I, who smile
In buttercups,
Across a brilliant
Landscape,
Framed in gold
And green,
Upon the hills,
Beckon any traveler
To brush against
Bright florid bushes
In the heat of
Summer’s day
And let
Come what may,
Upon his weary travels,
As though
He could only
Stay one day,
Upon the Earth,
So his sacred duty
Was to live that solo day
For all that it was worth!
—Joseph Nolan
I, who smile
In buttercups,
Across a brilliant
Landscape,
Framed in gold
And green,
Upon the hills,
Beckon any traveler
To brush against
Bright florid bushes
In the heat of
Summer’s day
And let
Come what may,
Upon his weary travels,
As though
He could only
Stay one day,
Upon the Earth,
So his sacred duty
Was to live that solo day
For all that it was worth!
TWO POEMS FROM DUGOUT ANTHOLOGY
A Poetry Collection by Michael Ceraolo, S. Euclid, OH
Ring Lardner
You know me as the author of stories,
many of them about baseball
A popular game that I never wrote about
is trying to figure out real-life models for fictional characters,
so I want to clear this up once and for all:
Jack Keefe was not based on any one player
Though such a thing is frowned upon now,
I was friendly with a few ballplayers I covered:
Doc White and I wrote a few songs together,
and I considered Eddie Cicotte a friend,
which made the events of 1919 hard to swallow
I was already moving away from baseball
when The Great Betrayal occurred,
so it wasn't a sudden disillusionment
but more the final straw that broke my fandom
* * *
Guy Harris White
I was a dentist,
so like anyone with any medical training
I was called Doc
I am proud of my five straight shutouts,
but glad I lived long enough to see Mr. Drysdale beat it
And I thought Ring's and my Gee, It's a Wonderful Game
was better than Von Tilzer and Norworth's work,
but they had a catchier chorus so they've lasted longer
I think there's room enough for both our songs
A Poetry Collection by Michael Ceraolo, S. Euclid, OH
Ring Lardner
You know me as the author of stories,
many of them about baseball
A popular game that I never wrote about
is trying to figure out real-life models for fictional characters,
so I want to clear this up once and for all:
Jack Keefe was not based on any one player
Though such a thing is frowned upon now,
I was friendly with a few ballplayers I covered:
Doc White and I wrote a few songs together,
and I considered Eddie Cicotte a friend,
which made the events of 1919 hard to swallow
I was already moving away from baseball
when The Great Betrayal occurred,
so it wasn't a sudden disillusionment
but more the final straw that broke my fandom
* * *
Guy Harris White
I was a dentist,
so like anyone with any medical training
I was called Doc
I am proud of my five straight shutouts,
but glad I lived long enough to see Mr. Drysdale beat it
And I thought Ring's and my Gee, It's a Wonderful Game
was better than Von Tilzer and Norworth's work,
but they had a catchier chorus so they've lasted longer
I think there's room enough for both our songs
THEY MARCH TO THE CONUNDRUM
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
the drunken driver
who had no license
no insurance
no permission from
the owner’s son to
drive his pickup truck
had already failed the test,
seen and dismissed all
helpful signs that displayed
rules of the road
had already disavowed
role models
exemplary drivers
good driver discounts
any and all efforts to
reach and teach drivers
who appeared to be at risk
that was the kind of fellow who
didn’t slow when traffic slowed
and careened into my family car,
then rolled the truck over several
times, ending upside down on a
frontage road beside an orchard
the police collared him and the
owner’s son when they sought
medical treatment for their injuries,
but the driver still presented
nothing to work with when it came
to rehabilitative plans: he is and
will always be a scorpion, armed
and ready to sting any learning
curve that dares to confront him
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
the drunken driver
who had no license
no insurance
no permission from
the owner’s son to
drive his pickup truck
had already failed the test,
seen and dismissed all
helpful signs that displayed
rules of the road
had already disavowed
role models
exemplary drivers
good driver discounts
any and all efforts to
reach and teach drivers
who appeared to be at risk
that was the kind of fellow who
didn’t slow when traffic slowed
and careened into my family car,
then rolled the truck over several
times, ending upside down on a
frontage road beside an orchard
the police collared him and the
owner’s son when they sought
medical treatment for their injuries,
but the driver still presented
nothing to work with when it came
to rehabilitative plans: he is and
will always be a scorpion, armed
and ready to sting any learning
curve that dares to confront him
DEXTER
—Caschwa
headliner appears
resonating reed sings out
erases our fears
behind the dark curtains
sit music cases battered by
rough modes of travel, holding
empty candy wrappers because
blacks weren’t allowed to step
inside and sit at the counter
but we invited their music into
the deepest chambers of our
hearts, held it there, locked it up
we etched grooves on black, vinyl
disks, poured a drink, lit a smoke
hugged each other and danced
all hours through the night with
no limits as long as there were
coins in our pockets, and music
—Caschwa
headliner appears
resonating reed sings out
erases our fears
behind the dark curtains
sit music cases battered by
rough modes of travel, holding
empty candy wrappers because
blacks weren’t allowed to step
inside and sit at the counter
but we invited their music into
the deepest chambers of our
hearts, held it there, locked it up
we etched grooves on black, vinyl
disks, poured a drink, lit a smoke
hugged each other and danced
all hours through the night with
no limits as long as there were
coins in our pockets, and music
ONE WISH
—Caschwa
was walking along the shore
bare feet in water at low tide
and suddenly a lamp bumps
into my ankles
couldn’t resist, I rubbed the
neck of the lamp and out
springs this smiling genie
who offers me the world
you get one wish, so
be very careful what
words you choose
and so I stood there frozen in
time thinking about my wish
I pondered asking for world peace,
but feared the outcome might be
a most peaceful cemetery, made
that way because everyone in the
whole world is now dead; former
lively places are ghost towns
where all people have returned
to ashes and dust
on second thought, I opted to tone
it down and wish for something else,
and then I thought of it, and blurted
out: I want a stud finder!
____________________________
Today’s LittleNip:
REAL PEACE
—Caschwa
you may be lucky to experience
love at first sight
but you will never taste real peace on the
very first bite
it’s one of those existential things to
grow day and night
were you paying close attention? if not
go fly a kite
_____________________________
Many thanks to today’s contributors for starting off the last week of February! I’m still pleased to remember the work of last Saturday’s poets from Jefferson City, MO—but am very sorry to say that I misspelled Cory Adamson’s first name. It’s Cory, not Corey. My apologies, Cory—as someone whose last name is so often misspelled (as Keith when it should be Kieth), I do know the annoyance of such things.
San Francisco’s Dancing Poetry Contest is open for submissions until April 15. Three Grand Prize winners’ poems will be danced by the Poetic Dance Theater Company, either on Zoom or in the SF Palace of the Legion of Honor in the Fall of 2021. See www.dancingpoetry.com for info.
Tonight at 7:30pm, Sac. Poetry Center’s Socially Distant Verse presents a night of three emerging Latina Voices: Angelica Flores, Maria Padilla, Laura Serratos, hosted by Diana Medina on Zoom at us04web.zoom.us/j/7638733462/. Join Zoom at 7:15 pm, reading starts at 7:30 pm; Password: spcsdv2020/. Facebook info: www.facebook.com/events/205284214686412/.
Your best source for Sac. Poetry Center info these days is www.facebook.com/sacpoetrycenter/. The website is permanently closed.
If the weather and other conditions permit, this weekend, Weds.-Sun. (Feb. 24-28), Public Poetry in Houston, TX (www.facebook.com/PublicPoetryUSA) presents REELpoetry, a 5-day online international festival of poetry films and video poems. See www.publicpoetry.net/?fbclid=IwAR3nxqxz7y4lZmibDtsIX69BmzDo3CWkIOcRAw_ukVvuHPMcpB-l6joe_j8 for info and to reg. Tix: Give what you can. Schedule and details: www.publicpoetry.net/?fbclid=IwAR3nxqxz7y4lZmibDtsIX69BmzDo3CWkIOcRAw_ukVvuHPMcpB-l6joe_j8#SE/.
_______________________
—Medusa
—Caschwa
was walking along the shore
bare feet in water at low tide
and suddenly a lamp bumps
into my ankles
couldn’t resist, I rubbed the
neck of the lamp and out
springs this smiling genie
who offers me the world
you get one wish, so
be very careful what
words you choose
and so I stood there frozen in
time thinking about my wish
I pondered asking for world peace,
but feared the outcome might be
a most peaceful cemetery, made
that way because everyone in the
whole world is now dead; former
lively places are ghost towns
where all people have returned
to ashes and dust
on second thought, I opted to tone
it down and wish for something else,
and then I thought of it, and blurted
out: I want a stud finder!
____________________________
Today’s LittleNip:
REAL PEACE
—Caschwa
you may be lucky to experience
love at first sight
but you will never taste real peace on the
very first bite
it’s one of those existential things to
grow day and night
were you paying close attention? if not
go fly a kite
_____________________________
Many thanks to today’s contributors for starting off the last week of February! I’m still pleased to remember the work of last Saturday’s poets from Jefferson City, MO—but am very sorry to say that I misspelled Cory Adamson’s first name. It’s Cory, not Corey. My apologies, Cory—as someone whose last name is so often misspelled (as Keith when it should be Kieth), I do know the annoyance of such things.
San Francisco’s Dancing Poetry Contest is open for submissions until April 15. Three Grand Prize winners’ poems will be danced by the Poetic Dance Theater Company, either on Zoom or in the SF Palace of the Legion of Honor in the Fall of 2021. See www.dancingpoetry.com for info.
Tonight at 7:30pm, Sac. Poetry Center’s Socially Distant Verse presents a night of three emerging Latina Voices: Angelica Flores, Maria Padilla, Laura Serratos, hosted by Diana Medina on Zoom at us04web.zoom.us/j/7638733462/. Join Zoom at 7:15 pm, reading starts at 7:30 pm; Password: spcsdv2020/. Facebook info: www.facebook.com/events/205284214686412/.
Your best source for Sac. Poetry Center info these days is www.facebook.com/sacpoetrycenter/. The website is permanently closed.
If the weather and other conditions permit, this weekend, Weds.-Sun. (Feb. 24-28), Public Poetry in Houston, TX (www.facebook.com/PublicPoetryUSA) presents REELpoetry, a 5-day online international festival of poetry films and video poems. See www.publicpoetry.net/?fbclid=IwAR3nxqxz7y4lZmibDtsIX69BmzDo3CWkIOcRAw_ukVvuHPMcpB-l6joe_j8 for info and to reg. Tix: Give what you can. Schedule and details: www.publicpoetry.net/?fbclid=IwAR3nxqxz7y4lZmibDtsIX69BmzDo3CWkIOcRAw_ukVvuHPMcpB-l6joe_j8#SE/.
_______________________
—Medusa
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