—Poetry by Joseph Nolan, Michael Ceraolo and
Caschwa (Carl Schwartz)
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Joseph Nolan
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Joseph Nolan
POST-TRAUMATIC DREAMS
—Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA
We always slumber
In the aftermath
Of the last war.
Who won?
Who lost?
Measuring the cost.
What if it
Happens, again?
Who, then,
Would win?
Can we afford
The random gamble?
What of
New weapons?
Are we
Past the curve?
Would we be
Rudely surprised,
Were we to press
Our apparent
Advantage?
Best that we sleep.
And dream our
Dreams
Continue through
‘til morning!
—Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA
We always slumber
In the aftermath
Of the last war.
Who won?
Who lost?
Measuring the cost.
What if it
Happens, again?
Who, then,
Would win?
Can we afford
The random gamble?
What of
New weapons?
Are we
Past the curve?
Would we be
Rudely surprised,
Were we to press
Our apparent
Advantage?
Best that we sleep.
And dream our
Dreams
Continue through
‘til morning!
BROKEN VINYL LP’s
—Joseph Nolan
Oh, dear!
Unfortunately,
Nothing sings
When it is broken.
Old LP’s,
Shattered,
Separated from their covers,
Broken glass,
Vinyl detritis.
Symbiotically,
We hope to feed
Upon each other’s dreams
And not to leech.
When wishes are
Remembered,
Fulfilled or unfulfilled,
Vibrato will encumber
Every feeling
We’ve ever had
Or never will.
Gazing
Across a windowsill,
Inside your home,
I notice all your neighbors
Feel so alone—
Their skies,
All painted gray.
There’s nothing I can say
To warm them up.
It’s cold December.
Spring is months away.
There’s nothing I can say
To speed up seasons’ warming.
They’ll have to bear
The loneliness of cold
Throughout the winter.
—Joseph Nolan
Oh, dear!
Unfortunately,
Nothing sings
When it is broken.
Old LP’s,
Shattered,
Separated from their covers,
Broken glass,
Vinyl detritis.
Symbiotically,
We hope to feed
Upon each other’s dreams
And not to leech.
When wishes are
Remembered,
Fulfilled or unfulfilled,
Vibrato will encumber
Every feeling
We’ve ever had
Or never will.
Gazing
Across a windowsill,
Inside your home,
I notice all your neighbors
Feel so alone—
Their skies,
All painted gray.
There’s nothing I can say
To warm them up.
It’s cold December.
Spring is months away.
There’s nothing I can say
To speed up seasons’ warming.
They’ll have to bear
The loneliness of cold
Throughout the winter.
THREE POEMS FROM DUGOUT ANTHOLOGY
A Poetry Collection by Michael Ceraolo, S. Euclid, OH
Bonesetter Reese
Bonesetter is a misnomer
The term came over from the old country with me
and referred to someone who
manipulated muscles and ligaments
That's what I did:
I never set a bone or treated an illness
I started my work while working in the mill
and eventually quit the mill
to devote myself full-time to healing
You could form an unbeatable team
from the ballplayers I treated
(though you won't get their names from me),
but they never got any better treatment
than I gave my fellow mill workers
* * *
Pete Gray
All my life, all I ever wanted
was the chance to be judged on my merits
Such a chance didn't happen very often:
most of the time people saw what was missing
and made the snap judgment I couldn't cut it,
though whenever I got a chance
I showed them I could play
I wanted to serve during the war,
feeling that if I could play baseball
I could cut it as a soldier,
but the Army didn't see it that way,
so I continued to play ball
Some writers called me courageous,
but I didn't accept such praise:
courage was on the battlefield, not the ball field
Some at the time, and later, denigrated my career,
but that says more about them than it does about me
* * *
Rube Waddell
I wasn't cut out to be an adult,
as my many managers and wives would attest
But since I could pitch a baseball
as well as anyone ever had,
the people who ran baseball teams
put up with what were politely called
my eccentricities, until one of those,
my consumption of alcohol,
took away my talent as a pitcher,
and my life ended sadly soon after
THE GREATER POWER
—Caschwa
(thoughts drawn from Smith’s
“before” image, Medusa’s Kitchen,
June 17, 2021)
the first cars I ever owned did not yet
include the benefit of power steering,
so I, along with countless others, bought
an after-market steering wheel knob to
afford me better leverage when turning
the vehicle
I am reminded of this convenience when
recalling the news of a motorist who was
attempting to negotiate the exit ramp of
a local freeway when his engine quit,
robbing him of his power steering—
ultimately he lost control of the
car and suffered a
crash that
took his
life
we don’t see very many steering wheel
knobs any more, guess they have been
replaced by the blind faith that, of course,
our engines would never fail us when we
need them the most
—Caschwa
(thoughts drawn from Smith’s
“before” image, Medusa’s Kitchen,
June 17, 2021)
the first cars I ever owned did not yet
include the benefit of power steering,
so I, along with countless others, bought
an after-market steering wheel knob to
afford me better leverage when turning
the vehicle
I am reminded of this convenience when
recalling the news of a motorist who was
attempting to negotiate the exit ramp of
a local freeway when his engine quit,
robbing him of his power steering—
ultimately he lost control of the
car and suffered a
crash that
took his
life
we don’t see very many steering wheel
knobs any more, guess they have been
replaced by the blind faith that, of course,
our engines would never fail us when we
need them the most
IT IS TIME TO CHANGE THE ARGUMENT
—Caschwa
throughout history, the victims of
egregious abuses have bared
their wounds for all to view, as if
that might sway people to invoke
the highest authority to remedy
such wrong doings
sadly, it has been pretty easy to
see that this approach is as futile
as telling the king of the jungle
not to tear his food apart
and then we get swarms and
swarms of white supremacists,
some of whom swear a badge,
who erase the lives of people
of color like an editor-in-chief
sitting at a word processor,
nonchalantly making liberal
use of the backspace key
this scenario will repeat itself
ad infinitum until we finally
change the argument, because
the sum of white supremacists
appears to have become immune
to our arrows of discontent,
criticism, and correction, to the
point where they merrily deflect
them and then double down to
be as hurtful as possible
let us join our hands
uniting all the colors
for the common good
—Caschwa
throughout history, the victims of
egregious abuses have bared
their wounds for all to view, as if
that might sway people to invoke
the highest authority to remedy
such wrong doings
sadly, it has been pretty easy to
see that this approach is as futile
as telling the king of the jungle
not to tear his food apart
and then we get swarms and
swarms of white supremacists,
some of whom swear a badge,
who erase the lives of people
of color like an editor-in-chief
sitting at a word processor,
nonchalantly making liberal
use of the backspace key
this scenario will repeat itself
ad infinitum until we finally
change the argument, because
the sum of white supremacists
appears to have become immune
to our arrows of discontent,
criticism, and correction, to the
point where they merrily deflect
them and then double down to
be as hurtful as possible
let us join our hands
uniting all the colors
for the common good
Today’s LittleNip:
HERE AND GONE
—Joseph Nolan
Just a passing movement
In the rhythm of a wave,
Part of every moment
With nothing there to save,
Full and empty,
Here and gone,
Where do disappearing things
Go when they are gone?
____________________
Our thanks to today’s contributors for helping us start off the last week of June with fine poetry and photos!
Tonight (6/21), 7:15pm: Sac. Poetry Center’s Socially Distant Verse features Tanya (Hyonhye) Ko Hong and Derrick Austin on Zoom at us04web.zoom.us/j/7638733462/; password: r3trnofsdv. Facebook: www.facebook.com/events/236323057946561?ref=newsfeed/.
This coming Sat. (6/26), 11am-1pm: Writers on the Air presents Sue Daly’s book launch (Language of the Tea Leaves from Cold River Press) and poetry reading at the Sac. Poetry Center, 25th & R Sts., Sac. This is an open air venue which will have social distanced seating, and vaccinations and/or masks are appropriate. For those not comfortable with social contact yet, the reading and follow-up open mic will be Zoomed at us02web.zoom.us/j/358106078?pwd=Z05TMEFJdmJyUGN1NTRPWnFva3Z5Zz09/; meeting ID: 358 106 078; passcode: 419778. Host: Todd Boyd.
Also this Sat. (6/26), 2pm, Poetry of the Sierra Foothills returns with Lara Gularte and Taylor Graham plus open mic at Love Birds Coffee & Tea Co. (patio), 411 Hwy 49 at Pleasant Valley Rd., Diamond Springs. Host: Lara Gularte.
And this Saturday night (6/26), 7:30pm, Sac. Poetry Alliance (www.sacramentopoetryalliance.com) presents Bill Pieper’s book release of his Borders & Boundaries from Cold River Press (coldriverpress.org/HTML/borders.htm). 1169 Perkins Way, Sacramento. Host: Tim Kahl.
On Sun. (6/27), 3-4:30pm, Poets Club of Lincoln features Judy Rollings plus open mic at Zoom: 837 0247 9851. The meeting ID will be 837 0247 9851; Passcode: 792265. Go to Zoom.us, click on join a meeting and use the above ID and passcode to join.
And this Fall, Oct. 1-3: Manzanita Writers Press presents its 16th Annual Gold Rush Writers Conference, 8304 Main St., Mokelumne Hill, CA. Info: www.goldrushwriters.com/.
____________________
—Medusa
HERE AND GONE
—Joseph Nolan
Just a passing movement
In the rhythm of a wave,
Part of every moment
With nothing there to save,
Full and empty,
Here and gone,
Where do disappearing things
Go when they are gone?
____________________
Our thanks to today’s contributors for helping us start off the last week of June with fine poetry and photos!
Tonight (6/21), 7:15pm: Sac. Poetry Center’s Socially Distant Verse features Tanya (Hyonhye) Ko Hong and Derrick Austin on Zoom at us04web.zoom.us/j/7638733462/; password: r3trnofsdv. Facebook: www.facebook.com/events/236323057946561?ref=newsfeed/.
This coming Sat. (6/26), 11am-1pm: Writers on the Air presents Sue Daly’s book launch (Language of the Tea Leaves from Cold River Press) and poetry reading at the Sac. Poetry Center, 25th & R Sts., Sac. This is an open air venue which will have social distanced seating, and vaccinations and/or masks are appropriate. For those not comfortable with social contact yet, the reading and follow-up open mic will be Zoomed at us02web.zoom.us/j/358106078?pwd=Z05TMEFJdmJyUGN1NTRPWnFva3Z5Zz09/; meeting ID: 358 106 078; passcode: 419778. Host: Todd Boyd.
Also this Sat. (6/26), 2pm, Poetry of the Sierra Foothills returns with Lara Gularte and Taylor Graham plus open mic at Love Birds Coffee & Tea Co. (patio), 411 Hwy 49 at Pleasant Valley Rd., Diamond Springs. Host: Lara Gularte.
And this Saturday night (6/26), 7:30pm, Sac. Poetry Alliance (www.sacramentopoetryalliance.com) presents Bill Pieper’s book release of his Borders & Boundaries from Cold River Press (coldriverpress.org/HTML/borders.htm). 1169 Perkins Way, Sacramento. Host: Tim Kahl.
On Sun. (6/27), 3-4:30pm, Poets Club of Lincoln features Judy Rollings plus open mic at Zoom: 837 0247 9851. The meeting ID will be 837 0247 9851; Passcode: 792265. Go to Zoom.us, click on join a meeting and use the above ID and passcode to join.
And this Fall, Oct. 1-3: Manzanita Writers Press presents its 16th Annual Gold Rush Writers Conference, 8304 Main St., Mokelumne Hill, CA. Info: www.goldrushwriters.com/.
____________________
—Medusa
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.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world, including
that which was previously-published.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world, including
that which was previously-published.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
