It Must Be Something That Brings Me Joy...

Athena II
—Patricia L. Nichol, Sacramento

The snake slithers through the summer heat
until it finds a stone under which to hide.
It sheds its skin, that thin membrane;
the snake is renewed, reborn.

My goat skin shield is lined with snakes.
My owl eyes see through the darkness
to where my father sits on Olympus
holding court, lord of the world.

I have seen the fragile and the fair,
listened to bird song, felt honey on my tongue,
heard cinnamon notes in the hot air,
known war to be the game of fools.

I steal through the summer heat
until I find a temple inside of which to hide.
I shed my war skin, taste honey on my tongue,
know I am reborn, and stand up on two legs.

(appears in Rattlesnake Review #6)

————————————————
Patricia Nichol is a Sacramento gal who is one of the featured poets in the latest issue of Tiger's Eye: A Journal of Poetry. Tiger's Eye is unique in that it spotlights several poets each issue, interviewing them in addition to publishing several of their poems. It's always so interesting to listen to what people have to say about their work styles. Here's a sample from Patricia's interview:

About a year ago, I realized that sticking rigorously to the notion that I must write everyday was a form of self-punishment and my super-ego was going crazy and was punitive. The truth is, I am a writer, I love writing, and I write. As difficult as it is, it must be something that brings me joy. Once I let go of this "should," I didn't start writing less; in fact, I might even be writing more, and it certainly is a whole lot more enjoyable and life-enhancing.

Any thoughts for Medusa and your fellow readers about what Patricia has to say? E-mail me by checking on the little envelope at the bottom of this page. kathykieth@hotmail.com

More about Tiger's Eye tomorrow. And don't forget Mary Zeppa's reading tonight: The Book Collector, 7:30.

Medusa

All Coiled Up And Ready to Spring—

Today I'm sitting at the coiling machine, binding little backs onto Snake 6. The issue is ready to spring out into the world—maybe at Donna Kuhn's "Bird a Door". Donna is from Aptos-by-the-Sea, one of the more beautiful places in the world, and her poetry should wake you up this morning:

BIRD A DOOR
—Donna Kuhn, Aptos

a feeling blue eye shadow gear
remember, plastic horses are hungry for snow

don't be skirts inside sleep
what i think, must make money

it is nite, very simple
dark bird as door

i feel very busy, a feeling u cant
not a violin going inside

camping the way u do
your rivers, coffee; i am a fence

u were the moon, moon splotch
im on my knees, break a bird

hissed in the dark, black dress
not a violin, what i think inside sleep

———————————

And don't forget Mary Zeppa's reading tomorrow night. Book Collector, 7:30.
Medusa

kk

James Lee Jobe: The Force is With Us

James Lee Jobe has been a force on the No. Cal. poetry scene for years and years as a poet, publisher, reader and all-around sparkplug. He’ll be doing a Rattlechap for Rattlesnake Press at the beginning of next year, but for those of you who can’t wait, here’s a sample:

THE OFFERING

Usually it is a field mouse, but once
it was a full grown rat, that I find dead
on my morning doormat, left there by Kitty.
My wife says, “Maybe she is trying to prove
that she is doing her job.” I smile and nod,
and go for the shovel, but really,
wouldn’t that imply that Kitty somehow knows
that humans expect cats to be diligent mousers?
Certainly I never asked that of her. I prefer
to think that she is seeking approval
for the justice that she has dispensed
upon the intruder. Or that perhaps
murderous Kitty has a compulsion to kill
that cannot be suppressed, and, not caring
for the taste of mouse, she comes to me
for aid in destroying the evidence of her crime,
aid that my shovel and I always provide.
Better still, it could be that Kitty, after being fed
by us for so long, is giving something back
to the family, bringing to the table something
of her own making. “Good Kitty,” I tell her
as I go for the shovel.

Jim will also be reading at The Book Collector (1008 24th St.) this coming Saturday at 8 p.m. And watch for a poem of his in Snake 6, too.

Susan Kelly-DeWitt hosts the 2005 Poet’s Corner Press Chapbook Contest Winner Svea Barrett at the Sacramento Poetry Center tonight at 7:30 p.m. That’s at 25th & R: HQ for the Arts. Info: 441-7395.

She purrs. Svea, I’m sure. But also my printer: Snake 6's are rolling out, even as we speak…

Medusa

The Fabulous Mary Z

Whistling girls and crowing hens
always come to some bad ends.
—The Grandmother's Daybook of Proverbs and Platitudes

Of Whistling Girl and Crowing Hen
—Mary Zeppa, Sacramento

The little red hen's inspiration (eR eR eR
cock a doodle doo doo!) wakes the girl
in this dream, in this fat featherbed,
who is me: in whose sleep-
hugging arms, the little red hen

incandesces: lights the bedrooms,
the parlor, the yard, spotlights
my redheaded Grandpa
knocking back his last
cinnamon schnapps.

Little Trumpeting Fluff
of Red Feathers, Little Belt-it-Out
Megaphone-Beak. Little Star of
My Firmament blasting
sour Granny clean into next week.

_______________________

The above poem is from the Fabulous Mary Zeppa, whose new Rattlechap (#11), The Battered Bride Overture, will be released this coming Wednesday, June 8, at a book party and reading at The Book Collector, 1008 24th Street, Sacramento, 7:30-9pm. Mary is a wonderful poet in addition to being a long-time Sacramento Poetry Center Board member and all-around supporter of poetry in Sacramento. This is her second chapbook.

In other news, Editor Joyce Odam is having a poetry crisis: she desperately needs poetry submissions for PDQ (Poetry Depth Quarterly), which has fallen behind in its schedule, so is doing a quick "catch-up" issue in July. Snail her (no e-mail) 3-5 poems, 3-10 line bio, SASE, no prev-pub or simul-subs. Joyce's address is 2432 48th St., Sac., 95822. Website: poetrydepthquarterly.com. Deadline is June 30.

Coming down the home stretch with Snake 6; 50 pages of your poetry, and counting....!

Medusa

That Vixen, Taylor Graham

Snake friend, Rattlechapper (#5) and Poetry Treasure of the Sierra Foothills Taylor Graham was so inspired by Carol Frith's triolet, Quetzal, that she sent Medusa one of her own. (Yes, Carol's poem on 5/31 was a triolet; Stephen Sadler and Taylor Graham both ID'd it.) Taylor also writes: "Anatole's double dactyl [yesterday] is quite something. I may send you one of those too, one of these days."

ADAPTATION
—Taylor Graham, Somerset

The vixen knows her way about this land
for ages. Engineered, a new bridge cuts
her roaming-ground in half, her river spanned.
The vixen knows her way about this land
but has to find new paths, and understand
geometry. A sturdy arch abuts
what vixen knows: her way about this land.
For ages engineered, the new bridge cuts.

In other happenings, the hinterlands of the North Area—especially when you get out as far as Citrus Heights—have historically had a dirth of poetry readings. But Barnes & Noble (on Sunrise in Citrus Heights, across from Sunrise Mall) has established a monthly series which is, at this point, just open mic. Still, if you feel like firing up the old buggy and heading out my way (where the wild turkeys roam), pop in there tonight at 7 and check it out. It's hosted by Donene Schuyler: crm2885@bn.com for info.

Medusa

And Now For Something Completely Different

There comes a time in one's life when heretofore irrelevancies become quite, well, relevant. Here is another sample from Snake 6, this time from Sacramento poet Anatole Lubovich, who tells it like it is...

COLONOSCOPY

It's alimentary,
yes, my dear Watson. Please
lower your briefs and pre-
sent your behind.

Illuminational
hose with a flashlight will
analyze clues where the
sun doesn't shine.

Well, I warned you. We write what we know...

The question has come up as to submitting poetry to Medusa's Kitchen; the answer is YES. Do it! I think we can be more informal about it, though, than stuff for the press. Just e-mail me ditties from time to time. You retain the rights.

And I can also use notices about readings and other poetry events, as long as you send them to me with specific instructions to put them in the Kitchen.

Now it's back to typing. This Snake issue is gargantuan—but hopefully illuminational, and not alimentary.

Medusa

Sticky Fingers from Grass Valley

Today I'm typing the Grass Valley/Nevada City feature of Snake 6, thanks to Bill Gainer's hard work in writing his article—plus hogtying some of the wonderful writers up in that area and getting them to send in their poetry. Here are a couple of sneak peaks from the Gainer-man himself. (I like the part about licking fingers...)

RITUALS
—Bill Gainer

Drinks stirred
with keepsake-swizzle-sticks,
the joint's name pressed
into every stem:
The Horns of the Hunter,
the Pirate's Cove,
Crow's Nest,
the Top Hat,
the Silk Stocking,
the Paradise Lounge,
Pete's Hideout.
There's a ruby fingernail
bouncing an ice cube
in a bourbon-seven,
sweetened fingers
get licked.
The bartender holds a cocktail glass
to the neon,
looking for traces
of last night's lipstick.
Phone numbers
get scribbled
in forgotten matchbooks.
A note gets left
under a windshield wiper,
"Call me."
The phone, left to ring
in an empty room.
The message light flashes,
you sit in the dark,
press the play button,
a soft voice whispers,
"yeah, it's been awhile."
you push the button, two,
maybe three more times,
think to yourself,
"yeah it has."


THE CONTENDER
—Bill Gainer

When I was a kid
you had to be
a contender –
the chances of becoming
a champ
were always slim –
but if you stayed in the fight
long enough
a few
would leave you
alone –
it was always a surprise
who they'd be.

Til tomorrow—and as Bill would say, Be Safe.

Medusa (still Wrangling)