—Poetry by Joseph Nolan, Stephen Kingsnorth,
Michelle Kuynert, Caschwa (Carl Schwartz)
—Public Domain Photos by Joseph Nolan
and Stephen Kingsnorth
SOUP
—Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA
Things that stew
For years and years
Bestow their seasoned flavors
On the soup.
Ingredients
That once were known,
Once were clear,
Have long-since disappeared,
Into soup.
The flavors of
A hundred years of simmer,
Brought together,
Whisper spicy, blended
Intonations.
—Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA
Things that stew
For years and years
Bestow their seasoned flavors
On the soup.
Ingredients
That once were known,
Once were clear,
Have long-since disappeared,
Into soup.
The flavors of
A hundred years of simmer,
Brought together,
Whisper spicy, blended
Intonations.
INSPIRATION ON VACATION
(With a nod to Lawrence Ferlinghetti, R.I.P.)
—Joseph Nolan
Imagine indecision,
Overtaking reason,
Sending motivation
Away on vacation,
While inspiration,
Decides
To take a dive!
Well, well, well,
Embarrassing to tell,
But every writer’s been there,
Circling the same old block,
Daydreams drawn from nowhere,
Devoid of brilliant color,
Looking like gray underwear,
Hanging on a line,
Without a fine-breasted woman,
In her curtained-window,
Pulling on the rope,
To make it seem divine.
(With a nod to Lawrence Ferlinghetti, R.I.P.)
—Joseph Nolan
Imagine indecision,
Overtaking reason,
Sending motivation
Away on vacation,
While inspiration,
Decides
To take a dive!
Well, well, well,
Embarrassing to tell,
But every writer’s been there,
Circling the same old block,
Daydreams drawn from nowhere,
Devoid of brilliant color,
Looking like gray underwear,
Hanging on a line,
Without a fine-breasted woman,
In her curtained-window,
Pulling on the rope,
To make it seem divine.
IN PURSUIT OF SUSTENANCE
—Joseph Nolan
If you have never
Had a snake
Devour your head,
Inch-by-sucking, inch!
Past its piercing fangs.
Consider yourself lucky,
Since such is the common fate,
Of many a spirited rodent,
Who might,
Otherwise,
Have gone on
To gnaw through
Here or there,
In pursuit of sustenance.
—Joseph Nolan
If you have never
Had a snake
Devour your head,
Inch-by-sucking, inch!
Past its piercing fangs.
Consider yourself lucky,
Since such is the common fate,
Of many a spirited rodent,
Who might,
Otherwise,
Have gone on
To gnaw through
Here or there,
In pursuit of sustenance.
EKPHRASTIC RECORDS OF RAGE
—Joseph Nolan
Crazy knows
No limits
And no
Boundaries
We may all need
Thicker layers
Of oblivion
To overlay
Our senses,
When future
Crashes in.
Every insult
To our
Mentalities,
We’ll be asked
To swallow,
Will stick
Inside our
Gullets,
Like
Chicken-bones
Caught sideways,
Making us spin
Round-and-round,
As cats chase their tails.
Madness has its
Methods
And its themes.
Calculate reactions
To messages and memes
By time-spent-on-the-page,
Double-clicks,
“Copy, paste and sends.”
It’s all there in the
Ekphrastic
Records of rage.
—Joseph Nolan
Crazy knows
No limits
And no
Boundaries
We may all need
Thicker layers
Of oblivion
To overlay
Our senses,
When future
Crashes in.
Every insult
To our
Mentalities,
We’ll be asked
To swallow,
Will stick
Inside our
Gullets,
Like
Chicken-bones
Caught sideways,
Making us spin
Round-and-round,
As cats chase their tails.
Madness has its
Methods
And its themes.
Calculate reactions
To messages and memes
By time-spent-on-the-page,
Double-clicks,
“Copy, paste and sends.”
It’s all there in the
Ekphrastic
Records of rage.
CYCLE PATHS
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales, UK
What riches lie beneath our feet,
not undermined by industry?
These carpet tiles, in annual lay,
through work of auxin, sacrifice,
a compote turning clay to tilth
is seedbed, mycorrhiza spread.
A crosspiece, felled by winds of change,
cambium rotten, host to stags,
is slower compost, death delayed,
a purgatory underway.
Combined is mindful, of our health,
communion with partner, earth,
found sound as site for pupils trained,
honework, shaping, moulding soul.
This cycle path as seasoned would
spin forever, spread spokeshave drift;
rural rides by cobnut swathes,
swag for spring in underlay,
harvest raids, launched aerial dreys,
bushy tales from forest glades.
Well-healed, footwear turning leaves,
re-treads for our pacing soles,
golden ways to brittle days,
gait through five-barred, country code;
some may balter, slipware sway,
prefer grey tarmac, neater stone,
but is firm footing underground
the route sustaining, future bound?
For what is due and what should reign?
Those beads, meniscus, crystal balls,
a sweating earth, obnoxious fuel—
are these as signs, earth’s stewardship?
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales, UK
What riches lie beneath our feet,
not undermined by industry?
These carpet tiles, in annual lay,
through work of auxin, sacrifice,
a compote turning clay to tilth
is seedbed, mycorrhiza spread.
A crosspiece, felled by winds of change,
cambium rotten, host to stags,
is slower compost, death delayed,
a purgatory underway.
Combined is mindful, of our health,
communion with partner, earth,
found sound as site for pupils trained,
honework, shaping, moulding soul.
This cycle path as seasoned would
spin forever, spread spokeshave drift;
rural rides by cobnut swathes,
swag for spring in underlay,
harvest raids, launched aerial dreys,
bushy tales from forest glades.
Well-healed, footwear turning leaves,
re-treads for our pacing soles,
golden ways to brittle days,
gait through five-barred, country code;
some may balter, slipware sway,
prefer grey tarmac, neater stone,
but is firm footing underground
the route sustaining, future bound?
For what is due and what should reign?
Those beads, meniscus, crystal balls,
a sweating earth, obnoxious fuel—
are these as signs, earth’s stewardship?
Christ with the Woman Taken in Adultery
by Han van Meegeren (Netherlands), 1942
FORGED
—Stephen Kingsnorth
This jpeg, saved as ‘christ-vermeer’,
on website claims Meegeren’s name;
who’s fooled most by this painter, con,
the experts or vox populi?
The older men, blackground portrayed,
had taken woman, caught in shame;
they dropped their rocks and sauntered off
when thrown by challenge, guiltless lives?
But expert elders round this frame,
have made their judgements, found them sound.
When reputations scrutinised,
despite the proofs, they stood their ground;
these academics, oeuvre known—
not those stone wielding faith police—
but scholars of another school,
so often titled with Vermeer,
as this Meegeren, jpeg’s work.
Though stolen art, both frames and style,
collaborator, occupied,
he sold his soul, bold artistry,
and hawked it to those Nazi heads.
He was a hero in the street,
perhaps because he fooled the world,
by forging on, fake gallery,
unlike soul pompous, found on sand.
A common child’s poem in English says “Rain Rain go away, come again another day”
but many Native Americans tend to instead teach their children to sing and dance for the blessing of rain
Appeasing or thanking the Great Spirit with such rain celebrations varies with traditions of American indigenous tribes
Northwestern tribes such as the Hopi are often known for wearing colorful costumes while dancing and playing music for their ceremonies for rain
To the native people, rainstorms apparently meant life to all things, rather than being treated as a bad omen
However, Northern California’s Indians were subject to such extreme genocide that their rain prayers were almost forgotten to history—
under whites’ domination, those who even survived were supposed to forget all their tribes’ songs and dances in their languages
I’ve found out that apparently a few tribes in California (such as the Ohlone) still hold rain dances to ask for relief from drought
—Michelle Kunert, Sacramento, CA
but many Native Americans tend to instead teach their children to sing and dance for the blessing of rain
Appeasing or thanking the Great Spirit with such rain celebrations varies with traditions of American indigenous tribes
Northwestern tribes such as the Hopi are often known for wearing colorful costumes while dancing and playing music for their ceremonies for rain
To the native people, rainstorms apparently meant life to all things, rather than being treated as a bad omen
However, Northern California’s Indians were subject to such extreme genocide that their rain prayers were almost forgotten to history—
under whites’ domination, those who even survived were supposed to forget all their tribes’ songs and dances in their languages
I’ve found out that apparently a few tribes in California (such as the Ohlone) still hold rain dances to ask for relief from drought
—Michelle Kunert, Sacramento, CA
OCEANS OF SMALL TALK
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
on a fair weather day I visited the pier, which
was counting to 7 along with the waves;
birds chattering like pianos at silent movies:
as soon as one thinks they are following along,
the utterances change in dramatic fashion
I was there to revisit the composite package
of pleasant semantic memories, my security
blanket barrier against the intrusion of specific
events that have brought me pain
was there to avoid contact with other humans,
some of whom allow their perfect recall to
edit and correct the blissful poetry of simply
not giving a damn what all the details were
was there to stand so still as to be one of the
pilings, one of the pier’s key tools of acoustic
encoding, as the rain came last night to plead
its case, but failed to swear to tell the whole
truth, and was not allowed to go on record
crashing waves came and erased the caustic
mental notes I had made in the sand; birds came
to quickly steal the seeds of ideas I had been
formulating, and the rain….what rain?
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
on a fair weather day I visited the pier, which
was counting to 7 along with the waves;
birds chattering like pianos at silent movies:
as soon as one thinks they are following along,
the utterances change in dramatic fashion
I was there to revisit the composite package
of pleasant semantic memories, my security
blanket barrier against the intrusion of specific
events that have brought me pain
was there to avoid contact with other humans,
some of whom allow their perfect recall to
edit and correct the blissful poetry of simply
not giving a damn what all the details were
was there to stand so still as to be one of the
pilings, one of the pier’s key tools of acoustic
encoding, as the rain came last night to plead
its case, but failed to swear to tell the whole
truth, and was not allowed to go on record
crashing waves came and erased the caustic
mental notes I had made in the sand; birds came
to quickly steal the seeds of ideas I had been
formulating, and the rain….what rain?
KING OF THE POOL
—Caschwa
rented a cheap bachelor apartment
in Los Angeles, which came with a small
pool that at one time had been heated,
but eventually it only sported one, modest
underwater light that made no difference
to the water temperature
neither the pool nor its visitors were of
Olympic caliber, but the more adept
among us could push off from one side
and swim across and back under water
again and again as if it proved there was
something special about us
so there we were, in our discount-store
bathing suits, bodies sculpted by varied
histories of neglect, abuse, and trauma,
climbing out of the swimming pool like
scrap-yard cars emerging from a drive-
thru car wash
all of our bumps, dents, and scratches
emphasized by brilliant, sparkling water
rapidly escaping down out of sight before
Father Time allotted us enough ticks on
the clock to grab our towels and cover
those unsightly areas
then we would each collect our assorted
poolside paraphernalia and march back
to our respective units to avail ourselves
of the thankfully private restroom facilities,
get dressed, then go out to get a bite to eat,
maybe some of that World’s Finest pastrami
—Caschwa
rented a cheap bachelor apartment
in Los Angeles, which came with a small
pool that at one time had been heated,
but eventually it only sported one, modest
underwater light that made no difference
to the water temperature
neither the pool nor its visitors were of
Olympic caliber, but the more adept
among us could push off from one side
and swim across and back under water
again and again as if it proved there was
something special about us
so there we were, in our discount-store
bathing suits, bodies sculpted by varied
histories of neglect, abuse, and trauma,
climbing out of the swimming pool like
scrap-yard cars emerging from a drive-
thru car wash
all of our bumps, dents, and scratches
emphasized by brilliant, sparkling water
rapidly escaping down out of sight before
Father Time allotted us enough ticks on
the clock to grab our towels and cover
those unsightly areas
then we would each collect our assorted
poolside paraphernalia and march back
to our respective units to avail ourselves
of the thankfully private restroom facilities,
get dressed, then go out to get a bite to eat,
maybe some of that World’s Finest pastrami
WHILE WE ARE AT IT
—Caschwa
CRT threatens to illuminate some
dark parts of our history. As long
as we are covering those lessons,
we might as well put it in perspective:
I. Jews in ancient Egypt fled from
slavery. What happened next?
They have suffered continuous
abuse; until today they still fear
extinction from haters
II. American blacks were freed from
slavery, at least on paper. What
happened next? Like the Jews, they
have suffered continuous abuse; until
today they still fear extinction from
haters
III. We found an oleander in our back yard,
toxic in all respects. What happened
next? We dared not eradicate it because
its roots are so entangled with the tree
of life we so much admire
—Caschwa
CRT threatens to illuminate some
dark parts of our history. As long
as we are covering those lessons,
we might as well put it in perspective:
I. Jews in ancient Egypt fled from
slavery. What happened next?
They have suffered continuous
abuse; until today they still fear
extinction from haters
II. American blacks were freed from
slavery, at least on paper. What
happened next? Like the Jews, they
have suffered continuous abuse; until
today they still fear extinction from
haters
III. We found an oleander in our back yard,
toxic in all respects. What happened
next? We dared not eradicate it because
its roots are so entangled with the tree
of life we so much admire
HAUNTED HARBINGERS
—Caschwa
it started a little before dark
with 2 costumed, elementary
school-age kids knocking at
the door, their parent coaching
them from the sidewalk
they held still while I put candy
in their bags, said thank you,
then went on their way
about an hour later 2 young
girls, maybe junior high age,
followed suit
they held still while I put candy
in their bags, said thank you,
then went on their way
and that was it for this season’s
Halloween
I held still while I put candy in
my hand, thanked myself, and
gobbled it up very quickly
_____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
NO MORE GIVENS
—Caschwa
enter now the circus clowns
guns are loaded with real rounds
image goal is only dumb
pandemonium abounds
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 1/21)
_____________________
Good morning to you, and if you haven’t turned your clock back for the Fall ending of Pacific Savings Time, you’re a day late. We have a fine group of contributors today, with a sassy line-up of great poetry and pix to start the week! As for events:
•••Tonight (Mon., 11/8), 7:30pm: Sac. Poetry Center’s Socially Distant Verse presents Carrie Nassif and Haley Lasch plus open mic, online only: us02web.zoom.us/j/7638733462/. Meeting ID: 763 873 3462; password: r3trnofsdv/.
•••Tues. (11/9), 7-8pm: The Modest-Stanislaus Poetry Center (MoSt) presents Cristina Sandoval and Manny Moreno plus open mic on Google Meet: meet.google.com/ksd-qtqc-jsh?hs=122&authuser=0/. Sign up for Open Mic at forms.gle/v8J9cK9RXn4YDwwc9/. Host: Stella Beratlis.
•••Thurs. (11/11), 4:30pm: Sat. Poetry Alliance presents Lisa Lewis in a Literary Lecture on “Publishing in a Literary Publication”. Zoom: us02web.zoom.us/j/81872835469/.
•••Sat. (11/13), 4-7pm: Sac. Poetry Center presents Elder Gideon with Equal Arms and Art Opening. Live music and performance art. 25th & R Sts., Sac.
•••Sat. (11/13), 7pm: Sac. Poetry Alliance presents Dave Boles and Ben Hiatt’s School of Okie Surrealism,1169 Perkins Way, Sac. Host: Tim Kahl. Please bring a mask if you are not vaccinated. Facebook info: www.facebook.com/events/1591813414494376/?acontext={"event_action_history"%3A[{"extra_data"%3A""%2C"mechanism"%3A"surface"%2C"surface"%3A"home"}%2C{"extra_data"%3A""%2C"mechanism"%3A"surface"%2C"surface"%3A"create_dialog"}]%2C"ref_notif_type"%3Anull}/.
_____________________
—Medusa
—Caschwa
it started a little before dark
with 2 costumed, elementary
school-age kids knocking at
the door, their parent coaching
them from the sidewalk
they held still while I put candy
in their bags, said thank you,
then went on their way
about an hour later 2 young
girls, maybe junior high age,
followed suit
they held still while I put candy
in their bags, said thank you,
then went on their way
and that was it for this season’s
Halloween
I held still while I put candy in
my hand, thanked myself, and
gobbled it up very quickly
_____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
NO MORE GIVENS
—Caschwa
enter now the circus clowns
guns are loaded with real rounds
image goal is only dumb
pandemonium abounds
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 1/21)
_____________________
Good morning to you, and if you haven’t turned your clock back for the Fall ending of Pacific Savings Time, you’re a day late. We have a fine group of contributors today, with a sassy line-up of great poetry and pix to start the week! As for events:
•••Tonight (Mon., 11/8), 7:30pm: Sac. Poetry Center’s Socially Distant Verse presents Carrie Nassif and Haley Lasch plus open mic, online only: us02web.zoom.us/j/7638733462/. Meeting ID: 763 873 3462; password: r3trnofsdv/.
•••Tues. (11/9), 7-8pm: The Modest-Stanislaus Poetry Center (MoSt) presents Cristina Sandoval and Manny Moreno plus open mic on Google Meet: meet.google.com/ksd-qtqc-jsh?hs=122&authuser=0/. Sign up for Open Mic at forms.gle/v8J9cK9RXn4YDwwc9/. Host: Stella Beratlis.
•••Thurs. (11/11), 4:30pm: Sat. Poetry Alliance presents Lisa Lewis in a Literary Lecture on “Publishing in a Literary Publication”. Zoom: us02web.zoom.us/j/81872835469/.
•••Sat. (11/13), 4-7pm: Sac. Poetry Center presents Elder Gideon with Equal Arms and Art Opening. Live music and performance art. 25th & R Sts., Sac.
•••Sat. (11/13), 7pm: Sac. Poetry Alliance presents Dave Boles and Ben Hiatt’s School of Okie Surrealism,1169 Perkins Way, Sac. Host: Tim Kahl. Please bring a mask if you are not vaccinated. Facebook info: www.facebook.com/events/1591813414494376/?acontext={"event_action_history"%3A[{"extra_data"%3A""%2C"mechanism"%3A"surface"%2C"surface"%3A"home"}%2C{"extra_data"%3A""%2C"mechanism"%3A"surface"%2C"surface"%3A"create_dialog"}]%2C"ref_notif_type"%3Anull}/.
_____________________
—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!
