To Be Half a Couple

FROST
—Devin Davis, Sacramento

lots of robins
—the beating wings...

a couple are
sitting together on a limb,

warmer
in dawn sun.

but it's dusk,
just west of us;

and these birds were
facing orange stone
to the north—

they're dying leaves,
attached to a branch.

...i am wrong,
about many things.

________________________

Thanks, Devin!


Today:

•••Tonight (Weds., 2/14), 7:30 PM: Rattlesnake Press is proud to announce the release of Brigit Truex's new rattlechap, A Counterpane Without, and the release of littlesnake broadside #31, I Brake for Wildflowers by Wendy Patrice Williams at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sacramento. Also coming out tonight: Snakelets #9, the journal of poetry from kids 0-12. Refreshments and a read-around will follow; bring your own poems or somebody else's. Info: kathykieth@hotmail.com

•••Also tonight, 8 PM: The UC-Davis Creative Writing Program presents Emily Norwood, Gabrielle Myers, Crystal Anderson at Café Roma, 3rd & University Sts., Davis.

________________________

More shadow poems, this one a slightly-creepy Valentine poem about a snake, from Wayne Robinson:

HIDING IN SHADOWS
—Wayne Robinson, Lodi

Hiding in shadows, like a viper in the cold
Only hunger will make this night time creature bold,
Walking in the dark side of the moonlight
A silent stalker creeping through the night.

In shadows hiding, looking through the door
Watching the girls dancing across the floor.
The night, the shadows, is for loving,
The viper in me is still hiding.

To be a partner, to be half a couple
To have someone special with long hair to pull
While twisted, coiled in beastly embrace
Stripping socks and colored under-lace.

Hiding in shadows, fearful, a rejection magnet
Only watching, eyeing, is any kind of outlet
For passion tied like strings in a baseball,
For a soundless voice with no one to call.

Dreams of Fred Astaire ability,
Owning two left feet in reality
With too much desire for anyone to know,
So I slither, a shadow within a shadow.

_______________________

Thanks, Wayne! I like the "rejection magnet" concept. And what was that about under-lace........?

Michelle Kunert sends us a Valentine poem. Like me, she seems a bit ambivalent about the whole thing:

VALENTINE CARD FOR AN "X"?
—Michelle Kunert, Sacramento

Once again, it is time for marketers to push "weddings"
building up the ideas of parties in young crush-strucken heads
along with the rings and other stuff that should be the last things to think about
when it comes to relationships, whether to tie the knot
without stopping to think that half of those bonds end up on the rocks

So I saw in a store that sells many of these retail fantasies
under a symbol of a big golden crown,
one card poking out of the display slot, a card with a big white X
As I pulled it out, it said, O, I love you
I put that back to spot another with a big black dark X
It turned out it said, This an X-rated card for you, Valentine
I said out-loud this isn't fair
because really I wanted to find a Valentine's card for an X!

I was hoping the Peanuts one with Lucy raising her fist on it could help me somewhat,
but quite the contrary.
I said, Don't they have one with a heart with a stake in it?
To say Cross it and hope to die, that I'm better without X
that I'm better without his lies
and his friends whining to me how he was a "good" catch.
I will beat my chest and cry
(though I am to forgive and forget)

And I thought a fine overture would be Sinead O'Connor's "Damn your eyes"
but instead store music playing reminds me of another "X"
if you can call the male diva I once fell for
even though he wasn't nearly as big a name
I learned from that experience with "Michael" it's the kind of love
that you know in public you don't and can't get intimate with
no, you learn you have to follow behind them or in their entourage
no you can't have them ever to yourself the way you want
no matter how much you desire them
and say nothing about all the other women
and when he says you've embarrassed him
(or you know he says it when he gives you stinky looks)
you can't argue a thing with him; he's the Godfather or Mussolini, "Capish"?
but you are to raise them up on high like they are Jesus,
'cause their god is the stormy seas they want to walk upon
instead of walking the narrow plank with the ordinary rest of us
even when they depend on where they wanna go from standing upon your back

So one time I met another woman auditioning for a local play
who claimed she was going to become a stand-up comedian
had picture buttons decorating her purse of who she said was her idol
please girlfriend, get real—don't you understand you're already too outspoken
Please, if your mouth always spouts what you think
don't commit suicide with your career
or rather don't sentence your life to being Mrs. Joshua Groban
(not to bash Italian opera and arias though, and dang that guy sounds good)
or some other guys who brag they live to take the strength that belongs to you for themselves
But oh how our complex is, that we're attracted to those men with such a power fix

Oh, Valentine's Day should be like when you were kids
give every boy and girl you knew an innocent card you bought in bulk from a pack
just like when all of us were equal and love wasn't used against one another on account of sex

_______________________

Thanks, Michelle!

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their POETRY, PHOTOS and ART, as well as announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com (or snail ‘em to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726) for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)

Shadow-talk

New Snake room, "Before"
(Note green-striped wallpaper)
photo by Kathy Kieth

C.S. CONVERTS PSYCHE
(written after reading Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis)
—Colette Jonopulos, Eugene, OR

She’s your ugly girl
sword in hand
with something to prove

neither Greek fox nor priest gives
easy grace; men layer
philosophies on philosophies; you
hand her a book of grievances
she’ll carry from shadow to shadow
her face in veils

your Oreul loves Psyche
more than she loves herself

absurd love like this
is found in the DSM-IV, an
obsession, an unfurled sheet
draped over the kingdom of Glome
over Psyche

a suffocating cloth

C.S., your myth gives breath
to the female no one
notices or desires before
talk therapy or SSRIs could save her

a woman with complaints against the gods
who become one God while
Psyche becomes two while

beauty no longer
matters to you or
Oruel; her conversion
like yours
two words: no answer

_______________________

Thanks, Colette, for another shadow poem, this one being of Jungian ilk. How can poets talk about shadows without mentioning The Dark Side of all of us! Ex-Sacramentan Colette Jonopulos is the co-editor of Tiger's Eye: A Journal of Poetry which is, like all journals, hungry for submissions. Click on the link to Colette to the right of this for more info. She is also the author of rattlechap #7, The Burden of Wings, and a littlesnake broadside, too.

______________________

Caesura deadline this Thursday:

The editors of cæsura, the Poetry Center of San Jose, invite you to submit 1-3 poems addressing the issue of MORTALITY and the general theme of mortality in our age. Submissions should not exceed 4-pages in total. All styles are welcome.Deadline for submissions is February 15, 2007. In addition to poetry, we are interested in essays and reviews of poetry or mixed genre collections (please query). The Spring 2007 issue of cæsura will be published in May of 2007. Provide the following contact information with your submission: name, address, phone number, and email address. Previously published work (in print or online) will not be considered. We accept simultaneous submissions on the condition that you notify us immediately upon acceptance elsewhere. Send your work in an email attachment in Word.doc format or pasted as plain text into the body of an email message to caesura@pcsj.org. If your work requires the preservation of a particular visual format or contains special characters, also send a hard copy to:

caesura
Poetry Center San José
1127 Polk Avenue
Sunnyvale, CA 94086


Suisun Valley Review deadline:

Quinton Duval writes: My colleague Michael Wyly is coordinating the Suisun Valley Review this Spring and he has asked me to help get the word out. They are looking for poetry, prose and short fiction (not to exceed 2500 words). Their deadline is March 31st and they ask for a brief bio and an SASE with submissions. It always ends up being a pretty good magazine, though modest in format. Please help pass the word to interested friends.

Send to:

SUISUN VALLEY REVIEW
Humanities Division
Solano Community College
4000 Suisun Valley Road
Fairfield, CA 94534-3197

_______________________

And tomorrow, take your valentine to the Rattlesnake Press rattle-read at The Book Collector at 7:30 PM. Featured will be Brigit Truex's new chapbook, A Counterpane Without, and Wendy Patrice Williams' littlesnake broadside, I Brake for Wildflowers. Here's a sample from Wendy:

FLURRY
—Wendy Patrice Williams

One spring day
snow had fallen
overnight—
a flurry of white blossoms
tiny cups
of manzanita flowers
sprinkled onto the gray boards
of the benches, the table,
the earth's fragile
shards of shale.

_______________________

Thanks, Wendy! And now for something completely different: a little shadow-talk to get us ready for Valentine's Day:

THE MAD SCENE
—James Merrill

Again last night I dreamed the dream called Laundry.
In it, the sheets and towels of a life we were going to share,
The mild-stiff bibs, the shroud, each rag to be ever
Trampled or soiled, bled on or groped for blindly,
Came swooning out of an enormous willow hamper
Onto moon-marbly boards. We had just met. I watched
From outer darkness. I had dressed myself in clothes
Of a new fiber that never stains or wrinkles, never
Wears thin. The opera house sparkled with tiers
And tiers of eyes, like mine enlarged by belladonna,
Trained inward. There I saw the cloud-clot, gust by gust,
Form, and the lightning bite, and roan mane unloosen.
Fingers were running in panic over the flute's nine gates.
Why did I flinch? I loved you. And in the downpour laughed
To have us wrung white, gnarled together, one
Topmost mordent of wisteria,
As the lean tree burst into grief.

_______________________

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their POETRY, PHOTOS and ART, as well as announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com (or snail ‘em to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726) for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)

The Season of Shadows Continues

Snake-doodle by Brigit Truex, Placerville

PAINTING SUNSET
—Brigit Truex

The drone of voices is mostly
in the lower register,
a drowsy bee hum,
sound of a radio
in another room, unintelligible,
not especially annoying
until you notice it.

And I do. I can't
escape it. It flings itself
onto the beach, rolls up
the dunes, sinks into my mind
like water on sand.
No stopping it.
Even the sooty seabird
lurches away, scolding the
dim-witted talk. The gull soars free,
without a glance.

Against such, my easel is useless,
hobbled, three-legged.
The wooden paintbox isn't
much better. Lid ajar, the crimped
gradations of the prism
stuffed into tubes of silver-
gone-grey, swelling, impatient,
pushing into the lowering sun,
the air, salt-licked,
damp with desire.

Snatches of pesky, persistent
words "...But I digress..."
sound familiar, foreign.
Who talks that way,
anyway, I wonder
and bat the voices away.
Slowly, I open
my hand, palm up,
and cup the fallen sun,
its citron light dripping
like a broken egg,
running over the edges,
spreading on the
ultramarine sea
that is pulsing, insistent
as my heart.

_______________________

Thanks, Brigit! Rattlesnake Press will be releasing Brigit Truex's new rattlechap, A Counterpane Without, this Wednesday, FEBRUARY 14 (yes, Valentine’s Day), at The Book Collector at 7:30 PM. Refreshments and a read-around will follow; bring your own poems or somebody else’s. Also released that night will be I Brake for Wildflowers, a littlesnake broadside by Wendy Patrice Williams, and the latest issue of SNAKELETS, the journal of poetry from kids 0-12.

And while you're thinking Snake, get your poems in for the next issue of Rattlesnake Review (Lucky Issue #13!) by this Thursday, February 15. Send 3-5 poems plus artwork and photos to kathykieth@hotmail.com or P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. No bio/cover/simul-subs or prev-pubs, please.


This week in poetry:

•••Tonight (Monday, 2/13), attend the SPC Board meeting at 5:45 PM, then go to the Valentine’s Day reading (An Evening of Poetry Lovers) at 7:30 PM, hosted by Indigo Moor. Hear readings by notable local poetic couples: Nora Staklis & Tom Goff; Christina & Art Mantecon; Erik & Terryl; Laverne & Carol Frith. Come and read with (or to) your poetic soulmate!

•••Tuesday (2/13), 8:30 PM: Davis poet Hannah Stein reads at The Bistro. There is an open mike also, and sign ups will be between 8 and 8:30. The Bistro has a full menu and bar, so you might want to make an evening of it. Andy Jones of KDVS-FM is the host. The Bistro is located at 3rd and F Streets in Davis. There is no cover charge.

•••Weds. (2/14), 7:30 PM: Rattlesnake Press rattle-read at The Book Collector; see above.

•••Also Weds., 8 PM: The UC-Davis Creative Writing Program presents Emily Norwood, Gabrielle Myers, Crystal Anderson at Café Roma, 3rd & University Sts., Davis.

•••Thurs. (2/15) and Friday (2/16): Garrison Keillor is going to read "Chicken Killing" on "The Writer's Almanac" Feb. 15th and "My Methodist Grandmother Says" on "The Writer's Almanac" Feb. 16th. The poems, which are both from Mary Mackey's new collection, Breaking the Fever, are also going to be available on the American Public Radio website and in podcast. In the Bay Area the show will be playing at 9 AM on KALW (91.7 FM). If you like, you can hear them as early as Monday, Feb. 13, by checking out their website at Writer's Almanac web site. You can also get the schedule for other parts of the country since different stations play The Writer's Almanac at different times.

•••Friday (2/16), 7 PM: Our House poetry reading. Featured reader is William O'Daly, reading poems by Pablo Neruda as well as his own. His latest book of Neruda translations, Still Another Day, was a finalist for a 2006 Quill Award. An open mike follows. Our House Gallery & Framing is located at 4510 Post St. in El Dorado Hills Town Center; take the Latrobe exit south and turn left into the shopping center. There is no charge.


Sacramento Poetry Contest winners:

SPC President Bob Stanley writes: From an unprecedented flood of 350 entries, the 38 poems listed below were selected for the final round by a panel of judges. From these poems, Sacramento Poet Laureate Julia Connor picked the winners – the top three poems, plus 10 honorable mentions. Please come and read your pieces at the awards ceremony on April 9th at HQ for the Arts! RSVP at poetrynow@sacramentopoetrycenter.org

First Prize - $100 Cathleen Williams, Sacramento, for “Ferry”

Second Prize - $50 Marie Reynolds, Sacramento, for “Off-Season”

Third Prize - $25 Timothy Russell, Toronto, Ohio, for “Selected Poems”

10 Honorable Mentions - $10 Barnes & Noble Gift Cards:
Dewell H. Byrd, Eureka, for “Sparrows on Barbed Wire”
J. Patricia Connolly, New York City, for “Exile is it?”
Do Gentry, Sacramento, for “The Auction”
Thomas Goff, Carmichael (2 awards) for “To An Afflicted One” and
“Watercolors at Negro Bar”
Lara Gularte, Magalia, CA, for “A River Story”
Dianna Henning, Janesville, CA, for “Tremor”
Barbara Jennings-Link, Sacramento, for “Montana Wheat Field”
Theresa McCourt, Sacramento, for “Along the Canal”
Cathleen Williams, Sacramento, for “I drove past”

The following poets were Semi-finalists; their poems reached the final group of 38:

J. Patricia Connolly, New York City, for "Ash lad and gatherer" and "Fly in Amber"
Do Gentry, Sacramento, for "Travel Diary and Mirage: A Concise History of Optics"
Thomas Goff, Carmichael, for "Independence Trail"
Lisa Falls Hall, Lodi, for "A Dirty Trick"
Dianna Henning, Janesville, for "No Trouble in Graceland"
Francis Kakugawa, Sacramento, for "Sansei Woman"
Nancy Ling, Walpole, MA, for "Coming Unfrozen" and "Jasmine"
Ellaraine Lockie, Sunnyvale: "Translations from a Face-Lift" and "Walk With Earthworms"
Elena Minor, Los Angeles, for "Hymn No. 607" and "Creation"
Marie Reynolds, Sacramento, for "Crossing the Siskiyous"
Barbara Schweitzer, N. Smithfield, RI, for "Heart-shaped Rocks"
Craig Strauss, Sacramento, for "When He Stared into the Lake He Saw Nothing…"
Jean Tupper, Wrentham, MA, for "The Quarrel"
Christopher Watkins, Mt. Sinai, NY, for "Circulation"
Cathleen Williams for "swing dancers", "Proof", "Found", "Cheyenne" and "Harlem Jazz"
Megan Willis, Rocklin, for "The forest behind our houses…"

_______________________

SILHOUETTES
—Jeanine Stevens, Sacramento

In winter like this
how bare-boned—

stripped of cover
white arms of alder

protrude, glare
and glower. I squint

my eyes, hollows
open branches

black and wet
hissing in sparse

evening light, noisy
shapes reverse

Gestalt principles
of figure-ground

an after-image, halos
shadowing the sun

glass magic lanterns
—old silhouettes.


(Previously published in Pegasus)

_______________________

Thanks, Jeanine, for the shadow poem! For the rest of you, today's the last day: send me your poetry about shadows before midnight tonight, Monday, Feb. 12, and I'll send you a surprise poetry present. E-mail to kathykieth@hotmail.com, or snail to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. Winter is the season of long shadows, after all...

And my apologies to Peggy Hill; I said her birthday was in February, but it's actually January 26.

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their POETRY, PHOTOS and ART, as well as announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com (or snail ‘em to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726) for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)

Trampling on Clouds

photo by Katy Brown, Davis

A spring full of sun
on the tail of the peacock—
how it sparkles!

—Meisetsu

***

When the eyes
of hawks are darkened—
quails call

—Basho

***

A pheasant's tail
very gently brushes
the violets

—Shushiki

***

A thin layer of snow
coats the wings of mandarin ducks—
such stillness!

—Shiki

***

Heads held high,
cormorants are swimming
up the swift current

—Roka

***

Trampling on clouds,
inhaling the mist,
the skylark soars

—Shiki

_______________________

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their POETRY, PHOTOS and ART, as well as announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com (or snail ‘em to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726) for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)

A Cellar Full of Shadows

Rain on a Hood
Photo by Katy Brown, Davis

I WAKE AND HEAR THE STEADY RAIN
—Margaret Ellis Hill, Wilton

I wake and hear the steady rain,
let the water wash pain away
from shoulders, drop through fingertips
to land near the edge of my feet.
I see all that water glisten in pools
refracting the light of a street lamp.

You wanted sex for sex sake,
a release for your wife's death
two months ago. You forgot
to tell me, so let me touch your lips,
embrace your mind, believe kindness.

Today I notice how my eyes
follow the ripples of water,
how the smallest movement,
even a slight breeze of words,
makes trivia out of time.

I will not go outside quite yet
but stay warm underneath blankets
smoothed and placed carefully,
stroking only the cats, curled
and purring at the foot of my bed.

_______________________

Thanks, Peggy! Someone else who has a February birthday is Margaret (Peggy) Ellis Hill, a native California girl, retired horticulturist, teacher and designer, who descends from a long line of actors, musicians, artists and teachers. A dedicated writer, she spends her spare time reading, studying and learning the art of poetry. Her first book, Close Company, was released in May, 2003 by Poet Works Press, and Rattlesnake Press released her littlesnake broadside, Exegesis of Love, in 2005. [Mail me an SASE and I'll send you a copy.]

Unfortunately, Peggy's husband passed away recently, but they had a long life together which includes five wonderful children and assorted grandkids. She lives in a beautiful ranch setting in Wilton with her many roses and wild turkeys and her energetic father, who is in his 90's. Happy Birthday, Peggy, and thanks for the poetry! Now all we need is a picture of you..... :-)

______________________

THE YELLOW-BILLED MAGPIE

flaunts an iridescent black back,
tapered tails, bright white shirt.
A yellow beak completes
his fine feathered costume.

Raucous caws crow the importance
of his skill at snatching sustenance: seeds
to insects on the wing—even road kill.
He's not afraid to steal swallow's eggs

or his comrade's lines for another gig.
He and his cronies use the vast prairies
and native forests of California's coastline
and central valleys for exclusive shows.

This flashy fellow presents quite a program,
but step too close the stage, he scolds,
making sure you understand that he guards
his acting tactics behind a proscenium arch.

—Margaret Ellis Hill

________________________

DESCENT
—Margaret Ellis Hill

I open the door,
descend into the basement,
forgetting the dark.
There’s a light
at the top of the stairs,
but I’m in a hurry;
I must concentrate
so I won’t slip or fall.

I find it’s not easy carrying
laundry baskets of thoughts
down narrow stairs by myself,
into a cellar full of shadows,
of scurrying conjectures.
I learn if I’m not careful,
I can sprain an ankle
or break my mind.

_______________________

Thanks, Peggy, for the shadow poem. The rest of you need to send me your poetry about shadows before midnight this coming Monday, Feb. 13, and I'll send you a surprise poetry present! E-mail to kathykieth@hotmail.com, or snail to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726, and remember—previously-published poems are okay for Medusa; please cite the publication.

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their POETRY, PHOTOS and ART, as well as announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com (or snail ‘em to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726) for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)

Of Birthdays & Other Dark Wings

THE PRODIGAL
—Elizabeth Bishop

The brown enormous odor he lived by
was too close, with its breathing and thick hair,
for him to judge. The floor was rotten; the sty
was plastered halfway up with glass-smooth dung.
Light-lashed, self-righteous, above moving snouts,
the pigs' eyes followed him, a cheerful stare—
even to the sow that always ate her young—
till, sickening, he leaned to scratch her head.
But sometimes mornings after drinking bouts
(he hid the pints behind a two-by-four),
the sunrise glazed the barnyard mud with red;
the burning puddles seemed to reassure.
And then he thought he almost might endure
his exile yet another year or more.

But evenings the first star came to warn.
The farmer whom he worked for came at dark
to shut the cows and horses in the barn
beneath their overhanging clouds of hay,
with pitchforks, faint forked lightnings, catching light,
safe and companionable as in the Ark.
The pigs stuck out their little feet and snored.
The lantern—like the sun, going away—
laid on the mud a pacing aureole.

Carrying a bucket along a slimy board,
he felt the bat's uncertain staggering flight,
his shuddering insights, beyond his control,
touching him. But it took him a long time
finally to make his mind up and go home.

________________________

Yesterday, Elizabeth Bishop would've been 96 years old.

This weekend:

•••Tonight, Fri. (2/9), 7:30 PM: All are invited to warm up to Valentine’s Day! Writers of the New Sun/Escritores del Nuevo Sol are sponsoring “Even Educated Fleas Do It!” An annual evening of Poetry, Fun and Chocolate featuring Art Mantecon & Christina Hayes Mantecon at La Raza Galeria Posada, 1024 22nd St, Midtown Sac. Cost: $5 or as you can afford. Visual Arts Exhibit: “What is This Thing called Amor?” Info contact: Graciela Ramirez 916-456-5323 or www.escritoresdelnuevosol.com

•••Sat. (2/10), 2 PM: Song of the San Joaquin, a Modesto-based poetry quarterly, will hold the reading of the Winter Issue at the McHenry Museum, 1302 "I" Street, Modesto. Admittance is free and light refreshments will be served. Poets will read their own works from the publication. More information: Cleo Griffith cleor36@yahoo.com or 209-543-1776.

•••Also Sat., 3-5 PM: Patricity’s “In Spirit & Truth Series” at 61 Yuence Smoked BBQ & Grill, 9657 Folsom Blvd. Sac. (off Bradshaw). Features plus open mic. Free. Info: 916-361-2014.

•••Sunday (2/11), 5 PM: Poetry Reading for Peace, featuring Jose Montoya and Julia Connor. The Book Collector, 1008 24th St. Sac. Hosted by James Lee Jobe. Open mic follows. Free. Info: Richard@poems-for-all.com

•••Also Sunday, 7 PM: Poets Corner Presents Roger Naylor & Steven Wilson @ Barnes & Noble, Stockton Weberstown Mall, Stockton. Free; open mic. David Humphreys hosts.

•••Also Sunday, 2:30-4:30 PM: Poets on the Ridge Poetry Reading (Open mic) at Juice & Java, 7067 Skyway, Paradise. Info: 530-872-9633.

•••Also Sunday, 2-5 PM: Billed as "Between the Sheets," a romantic poetry and prose reading at the Leger Hotel in Mokelumne Hill on Sunday, Feb. 11, poets, authors, and the public will entertain us and those special someones for the Valentine week coming up in February. Included will be featured poets and writers involved with Manzanita who have prepared some sensual and romantic poetry and prose for a delicious, sizzling afternoon. Generous open mic time will be provided for the public to read and share favorite love poems, love notes, and nuptial poems—original fare or those by favorite authors. Humorous, sexy, rollicking, serious, heartfelt, sensual poetry and prose will be solicited and shared. David Sackman will accompany writers on stand-up bass for sultry rhythms. Benefit entrance: $5 per person. Additional: $15-25 range for a special Valentine menu from 5 PM on following the event, prepared by the talented Leger Hotel chef. Bonus highlights: creative and fun sensations available from a chocolate confectioner, winery samplings, samples from other vendors, and an afternoon love fest of words. There will be author book signings and chat time during the break. Event hosted by Writers Unlimited (publishers of Manzanita), an affiliate of the Calaveras County Arts Council, and the Leger Hotel. For inquiries and reading reservations, e-mail mrosemanza@jps.net or phone: (209) 754-0577. Open mic signups via e-mail or phone are best to guarantee optimum mic time. Antoinette May will be reading some pleasureable excerpts from her new book, Pilate's Wife.

•••Also Sunday, 4 PM: Joyce Odam and Kathy Kieth will be reading in Crockett at the Valona Deli Second Sunday Poetry Reading, 1323 Pomona St., Crockett. Open mic follows; come for poetry, stay for jazz from the Terry Henry Trio. Info: David Alpaugh, 925-682-0457. [See last Sunday's post for a lovely picture of Joyce!]

•••Monday (2/12), attend the SPC Board meeting at 5:45 PM, then go to the Valentine’s Day reading (An Evening of Poetry Lovers) at 7:30 PM, hosted by Indigo Moor. Hear readings by notable poetic couples: Nora Staklis & Tom Goff; Christina & Art Mantecon; Erik & Terryl; Laverne & Carol Frith and more! Come and read with (or to) your poetic soulmate! Free; open mic.

_______________________

SUN FACES AND DARK WINGS
—Patricia Wellingham-Jones, Tehama

The sun faces of daisies
and chartreuse and bright orange
chrysanthemums
shimmer in the glass vase.
The day marches forward
in its usual bustle of busy hands.
Behind my eyes
I sense dark feathers
approach this house,
watch the shadow grow.
I feel the soft rustle
of wings unfolding,
smell the dust of long flight.
Know that soon Death’s wingtips
will brush your face,
flex and feather around your spirit,
gently lift you from your worn shell,
bear you away.

_______________________

Thanks, Patricia! Our give-away continues: send Medusa your poetry about shadows before midnight on Monday, Feb. 13, and I'll send you a surprise poetry present. E-mail to kathykieth@hotmail.com, or snail to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726.

_______________________

WIND AND SILVER
—Amy Lowell

Greatly shining,
The Autumn moon floats in the thin sky;
And the fish-ponds shake their backs and flash their dragon scales
As she passes over them.

_______________________

SOLITAIRE
—Amy Lowell

When night drifts along the streets of the city,
And sifts down between the uneven roofs,
My mind begins to peek and peer.
It plays at ball in odd, blue Chinese gardens,
And shakes wrought dice-cups in Pagan temples
Amid the broken fluting of white pillars.
It dances with purple and yellow crocuses in its hair,
And its feet shine as they flutter over drenched grasses.
How light and laughing my mind is,
When all good folk have put out their bedroom candles.
And the city is still.

________________________

Today, Amy Lowell would've been 133 years old.

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their POETRY, PHOTOS and ART, as well as announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com (or snail ‘em to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726) for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)

Sewing on a Shadow

photo by Greg Chalpin

Francisco Alarcón writes: I am enclosing a poem titled "A Shadow's Fate." It's a painful poem I wrote many years ago:

A SHADOW’S FATE
—Francisco X. Alarcón

tough
being a shadow
always
trailing
someone else's
footsteps
not being
able to scream
or cry
when suddenly
stamped on

what a faceless
fate
being sprawled
in the middle
of the day
speechless
on a dirty
downtown
sidewalk

a shadow
always
attached to
someone else's
life
without
the freedom
to choose
whom
to follow
and love

_______________________

Francisco X. Alarcón, Chicano poet and educator, is the author of ten volumes of poetry, including From the Other Side of Night / Del otro lado de la noche: New and Selected Poems (University of Arizona Press 2002). His most recent book of bilingual poetry for children, titled Poems to Dream Together, was published by Lee & Low Books, New York in Spring 2005, and was awarded the 2006 Jane Addams Honor Book Award. He currently teaches at the University of California, Davis, where he directs the Spanish for Native Speakers Program. Thanks, Francisco, for responding to our shadow silliness.

For the rest of you, it's not too late! Send me your poetry about shadows before midnight on Monday, Feb. 13, and I'll send you a surprise poetry present. E-mail to kathykieth@hotmail.com, or snail to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. Jeanine Stevens writes: The first thing that always comes to mind re: shadows is Peter Pan (I think) who lost his, and didn't Wendy have to sew it back on? Ouch! Creepy! [Now there's a poetry trigger if I ever saw one....!]

And thanks, too, to Greg Chalpin for the historic photo of our sadly-passed historic Tower, this one on Watt. Ann Wehrman wrote a fitting tribute poem which we posted on Medusa a couple of weeks ago; watch for her "In Thanks for the Mighty Tower" in Rattlesnake Review #13, due out in March.

Here's another shadow poem, this one from Tom Goff:

LIGHT SHADOW*
—Tom Goff, Carmichael

Shadow is what I call the strangest light.
It pummels this white page, hits and stuns
the black words. So they stagger. They reel

until I, not they, are dizzy. Lighthouse
spins and spins of the wheeling lantern
meant for far-out-at-sea mariners, not for me

at the heaving heart of the inner sea, the one trying
to steady and stabilize the lines.
Is this holy writing? The words now sprout

heat shimmers, halos. Angel? I am sore afraid,
no, just a sore in my own frayed head. In this word
blender, the center does hold, but the rest falls apart.

Shade my eyes, somebody please. I need
your hat. Anybody got half a baseball cap?
Not these afterimages crowding the now thoughts

over the blank falls. White white white white
white white noise, Susie Asado. Susie Asado
is white shadow. Whiteout bats in shadow. Not

some damned sweet tea. Take away this paper.
Turn all the ons off. Leave me alone
with my own best blackest light.

*For all those who suffer from Irlen Syndrome,
or Scotopic Sensitivity Syndrome,
a visual perception problem which interferes
with words in black ink on white paper,
especially under fluorescent light. The syndrome
can make the words seem to lift, float, swirl,
reverse, or disappear, though the condition is
treatable with colored overlays or lenses.
I probably have the condition in mild degree.

_______________________

Thanks, Tom!

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their POETRY, PHOTOS and ART, as well as announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com (or snail ‘em to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726) for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)