—Poetry by Carl Schwartz (Caschwa), Michael Ceraolo,
and Joseph Nolan
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of
Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA
THE DAY THEY DON’T WANT US TO REMEMBER
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
“Not enough control-burns. Trees standing dead and dying, waiting for a flame.”
—“Memorial Day” by Taylor Graham,
Medusa’s Kitchen, 6/4/21
A forest of dry-wood senators and representatives, each
planted by special interests to grow their own agenda and
provide more shade to those with no light
The Great Insurrection of January 6th may go down in
history as “No Pride Day” because its aims and goals were
totally opposite to our ongoing purpose to develop unity and
synergy and that unique bonding of come-togetherness that
we see in lush forests
That’s right, Congress needs some control-burns, to make it
less vulnerable to damage from the flames of dispute like we
saw on January 6th
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
“Not enough control-burns. Trees standing dead and dying, waiting for a flame.”
—“Memorial Day” by Taylor Graham,
Medusa’s Kitchen, 6/4/21
A forest of dry-wood senators and representatives, each
planted by special interests to grow their own agenda and
provide more shade to those with no light
The Great Insurrection of January 6th may go down in
history as “No Pride Day” because its aims and goals were
totally opposite to our ongoing purpose to develop unity and
synergy and that unique bonding of come-togetherness that
we see in lush forests
That’s right, Congress needs some control-burns, to make it
less vulnerable to damage from the flames of dispute like we
saw on January 6th
Hanging by One’s Thumbs, as it were . . .
EVERYONE IS AN OUTLAW
—Caschwa
”all blacks were evil”
actually the reverse
told a truer tale
evil was harbored
not by slaves, but their owners
who wouldn’t own it
when it reached the point
when owners had to forfeit
legal property
all Hell broke loose, and
we suffered a Civil War
that continues on
to this very day
nothing that we do or say
extinguishes hate
—Caschwa
”all blacks were evil”
actually the reverse
told a truer tale
evil was harbored
not by slaves, but their owners
who wouldn’t own it
when it reached the point
when owners had to forfeit
legal property
all Hell broke loose, and
we suffered a Civil War
that continues on
to this very day
nothing that we do or say
extinguishes hate
THREE POEMS FROM DUGOUT ANTHOLOGY
—A Poetry Collection by Michael Ceraolo, S. Euclid, OH
Biz Mackey
Have bat and glove, will travel
I played in the Negro Leagues,
barnstormed the rest of the United States
and Japan, China, and the Philippines,
played in Cuba; you get the idea
I got the nickname Biz
because I took care of business,
first as a player and later as a manager,
and also because while catching
I liked to give the batter the business
I had a good eye for talent,
shifting Monte Irvin to the outfield,
and I discovered I could teach:
I was a tough teacher with Roy Campanella,
but I think those lessons were successful
Though sometimes the owner saw things differently:
I was hired, fired, rehired, and fired again
by Effa Manley
* * *
Adolfo Luque
Did I have a temper? Yes
Did I get in fights on and off the field? Yes
Did I like to drink and have a good time? Yes
(although my exploits in all three were somewhat exaggerated)
If those things, and being a fierce competitor,
were going to stereotype me,
it should have been by profession, not ethnicity
I did enough as a player and/or manager
to make the Cuban and Mexican Baseball Halls of Fame
I think I did enough as a player and coach
to be enshrined in Cooperstown,
but that's out of my hands
* * *
Joe Medwick
I'm one of the small club
who’s won a batting Triple Crown
I'm one of the much-larger club who fought,
sometimes with opponents, sometimes with teammates,
for everything we got out of baseball
And because I did so,
I am a member of another club,
in fact the only member of that club:
being kicked out of a World Series game,
a Game Seven no less,
for my own protection
I had slid into Marv Owen and we fought
When I went out to left field
the Detroit fans showered me with projectiles,
some of them dangerous,
and while a forfeit would have served them right,
that wasn't going to happen,
so I reluctantly let myself be ejected
We were already up nine-nothing,
and even if it had been a one- or two-run lead,
they weren't going to score off Diz
And I'll end by saying again
to hell with Owen
—A Poetry Collection by Michael Ceraolo, S. Euclid, OH
Biz Mackey
Have bat and glove, will travel
I played in the Negro Leagues,
barnstormed the rest of the United States
and Japan, China, and the Philippines,
played in Cuba; you get the idea
I got the nickname Biz
because I took care of business,
first as a player and later as a manager,
and also because while catching
I liked to give the batter the business
I had a good eye for talent,
shifting Monte Irvin to the outfield,
and I discovered I could teach:
I was a tough teacher with Roy Campanella,
but I think those lessons were successful
Though sometimes the owner saw things differently:
I was hired, fired, rehired, and fired again
by Effa Manley
* * *
Adolfo Luque
Did I have a temper? Yes
Did I get in fights on and off the field? Yes
Did I like to drink and have a good time? Yes
(although my exploits in all three were somewhat exaggerated)
If those things, and being a fierce competitor,
were going to stereotype me,
it should have been by profession, not ethnicity
I did enough as a player and/or manager
to make the Cuban and Mexican Baseball Halls of Fame
I think I did enough as a player and coach
to be enshrined in Cooperstown,
but that's out of my hands
* * *
Joe Medwick
I'm one of the small club
who’s won a batting Triple Crown
I'm one of the much-larger club who fought,
sometimes with opponents, sometimes with teammates,
for everything we got out of baseball
And because I did so,
I am a member of another club,
in fact the only member of that club:
being kicked out of a World Series game,
a Game Seven no less,
for my own protection
I had slid into Marv Owen and we fought
When I went out to left field
the Detroit fans showered me with projectiles,
some of them dangerous,
and while a forfeit would have served them right,
that wasn't going to happen,
so I reluctantly let myself be ejected
We were already up nine-nothing,
and even if it had been a one- or two-run lead,
they weren't going to score off Diz
And I'll end by saying again
to hell with Owen
BURDENS OF BIRTH
—Joseph Nolan
She had bore him
Nine children,
So, after all,
It was not entirely unforeseeable
That she might bear him
Bitter resentment,
As well.
He could have left her alone,
I suppose,
Not bothered her so,
In the night,
But he loved her
And needed her.
Not hard to see
Why that was.
But fifteen years of
Birthing babies
Surely had taken its toll,
Especially the Two-at-Once,
Who ruined her
Abdominal muscles.
Her hostility
Was plain to see,
As thick as though
You could cut it.
Quiet ran
Throughout the house,
After the nine
Were grown
And gone.
The love that once
Had bound them,
Split them
Along a cleft.
They waited
For one
To be
First to go
And leave
The other
Bereft.
—Joseph Nolan
She had bore him
Nine children,
So, after all,
It was not entirely unforeseeable
That she might bear him
Bitter resentment,
As well.
He could have left her alone,
I suppose,
Not bothered her so,
In the night,
But he loved her
And needed her.
Not hard to see
Why that was.
But fifteen years of
Birthing babies
Surely had taken its toll,
Especially the Two-at-Once,
Who ruined her
Abdominal muscles.
Her hostility
Was plain to see,
As thick as though
You could cut it.
Quiet ran
Throughout the house,
After the nine
Were grown
And gone.
The love that once
Had bound them,
Split them
Along a cleft.
They waited
For one
To be
First to go
And leave
The other
Bereft.
Today’s (Longer) Nip:
ONLY MUSIC AND LIGHT
—Joseph Nolan
It’s only music,
Only light,
Reverie of daydream,
The quiet
In the night.
All the things
You felt were wrong,
Turning back to right.
The pain, the tears,
The aftermath,
The reasons
Lost from sight.
Your cries return in echoes,
Reflected, far away.
Darkness, night, revolving
Slowly, back to day.
_____________________
It’s Monday morning, and here we go again, starting off with a big thanks to today’s contributors for giving us a proper shove into the first full week of June. Flag Day, Father’s Day, the Summer Solstice—June has its share of fun and frivolity ahead. Starting with . . .
Friday (6/11), 6pm, the Random Lane Summer Poetry Series presents a reading at Beers Books (915 S St.) in Sacramento from Why to These Rocks: 50 Years of Poems from the Community of Writers, hosted by former Sac. Poet Laureate Bob Stanley, featuring Noah Blaustein, Victoria Dalkey, Blas Falconer, Cody Gates, Brenda Hillman, Renato Rosaldo, Shelley Wong, with special appearance by Michael Young. Please note that you need to register in order to get the Zoom link; register online at communityofwriters.org/events/event/why-to-the-rocks-anthology-virtual-reading-at-beers-books/. The Community of Writers’ 50-year anthology is dedicated to the memory of Al Young, former Cal. Poet Laureate. Al's son, Michael Young, will be reading from his father's poetry. Emcee: Lisa D. Alvarez, Editor.
Then this coming Sat. (6/12), 7:30pm, Sac. Poetry Alliance presents Jeff Ewing’s reading and book release for his new book, Wind Apples (Terrapin Press, www.terrapinbooks.com/ewing.html) at 1169 Perkins Way, Sac. Please bring mask if not vaccinated. Host: Tim Kahl.
Again, our congratulations to Lara Gularte for becoming Poet Laureate of El Dorado County, 2021-2023! Lara hosts the Poetry of the Sierra Foothills reading series and is a member of Red Fox Underground Poets, a longstanding Foothills poetry writing group, as well as Escritores Del Nuevo Sol, a writing group in Sacramento. For more about Lara, see Taylor Graham’s Facebook page at www.facebook.com/taylor.graham.18062/.
Check out a fine history of Sacramento’s Royal Chicano Air Force (RCAF) poets and artists written by Dr. Ella Maria Diaz on smarthistory at smarthistory.org/rcaf/.
___________________
—Medusa
Either this elephant is taking a nap, or he/she has
fallen in love
with this car…
(See last Wednesday’s post:
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?
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that which was previously-published.
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