Monday, September 07, 2009

Labor Day: Song of the Saw


Photo by Katy Brown


WILD SUNFLOWERS
—Katy Brown, Davis


This is the summer that the valley
and all the hills and mountains rising around it
burned;

the summer that the valley was shrouded
in smoke so dense it blocked the sun
and turned the daylight red.

And the hills and mountains rising, as if to escape
the burning air, were trapped in granite waves:
and they burned, too.

Hills and mountains covered with dry grass and trees
wore embered cloaks for weeks on end.
Even the sky burned.

And in the drying bypass, among the weeds and
between the rice paddies, miniature suns
call a truce with fire.

___________________

WHISPERED NAME
—Katy Brown

She puts her unwound watch,
her rings and the last days of April
on her nightstand.

She drops her nightgown
over her head and pauses
at the edge of her bed —

tightly made with matching
comforter and curtains
and last year’s dust

under the ruffled skirt.
She tucks her daydreams
in the cool underside

of her pillow
and whispers his name
into the damask rose room.

___________________

KEEP AWAY
—Katy Brown

Keep Away is a lively game
as long as the rules remain the same:
someone is short and someone tall
(who tries to be the master of all. . . .)

until the short one uses her head
employs a different tactic instead:
there are ways that height can be opposed
many places are left exposed . . . .

by extending his arm, he’s in a pickle
all she has to do is tickle . . . . .

__________________

Thanks, Katy! Join us this coming Wednesday, Sept. 9 at 7:30 PM at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sacramento, for the release of Katy's latest HandyStuff blank journal with photos and poetry prompts: A Capital Idea. Katy Brown is a Social Work Supervisor with Adult Protective Services in Sacramento. She is a columnist for Rattlesnake Review and a frequent contributor to Medusa’s Kitchen. Her poems have appeared in the Song of the San Joaquin, Harp Strings Review, Rattlesnake Review and Brevities. She has won awards in the International Dancing Poetry Contest and the Ina Coolbrith, Berkeley Poets’ Dinner and Chaparral Poets contests. Her workbook for children, Poetry Potions, is being reissued in digital format. She was featured on Medusa on March 24, 2007—check her out in the archives!

Woe is me, though—I'm running out of ink. For the laser printer, that is—and it's a holiday, so the mails aren't working, so I can't get any more 'til Tuesday. Therefore, the new issue of Rattlesnake Review won't be appearing on Tuesday as advertised; it'll have to wait a week. I'll let you know when it'll be in The Book Collector, and contributors and subscribers will get theirs in the mail.

It's Labor Day: as poets, our "labor" is poetry:


TO BUILD A POEM
—Christine E. Hemp

Building a poem is like building a house
where raw material, pointed word and nail,
are laid out—in piles, and mixed without a rule,
two-by-fours stacked in readiness for the saw,
and words anticipate order, in order to beam
the page as nails await the hammer.

Then I hear the sounds start to form and the hammer
whams and bangs the sill down to ground the house
in a form which will hold every rafter and beam
in place. And the poem takes shape as I nail
my thoughts and stud the page with images I saw
while framing a closet, not in the book of rules.

In my house I rule
out all excess lines, and simplify as I hammer
on the plate with sixteen-penny nails, and saw
the rafters, one by one, careful not to cut too much as I house
possibility with walls and roof. A fingernail
of a moon shines on the skeleton of frame and beams

light on a poem in my mind and I beam
to think of a couplet or a slant rhyme that will fit the rule
of a sonnet or sestina just like the beveled banisters I nail
to the stairs. I hear the singing of those hammer
sounds, like words that leap to dance as they house
the music of the poem, an up-down cadence like the song of the saw.

___________________

This week in NorCal poetry:

•••Monday (9/7), 7:30 PM: Sacramento Poetry Center’s Book Release Event for Tim Kahl’s new book, Possessing Yourself. HQ for the Arts, 1719 25th St., Sacramento. Drinks and a tantalizing spread will be offered. Tim Kahl’s work has been published in Prairie Schooner, American Letters & Commentary, Berkeley Poetry Review, Caliban, Connecticut Review, Fourteen Hills, George Washington Review, Illuminations, Indiana Review, The Journal, Limestone, Nimrod, Ninth Letter, Notre Dame Review, Parthenon West Review, South Dakota Quarterly, The Spoon River Poetry Review, The Texas Review, and many other journals in the U.S. He has translated German poet Rolf Haufs, Austrian avant-gardist, Friederike Mayröcker; Brazilian poets Lêdo Ivo and Marly de Oliveira; and the poems of the Portuguese language’s only Nobel Laureate, José Saramago. He also appears as Victor Schnickelfritz at the poetry and poetics blog, The Great American Pinup (http://www.greatamericanpinup.blogspot.com/). Additionally, he is the editor for Bald Trickster Press. He can also be found online at http://www.timkahl.com/.

Coming up at SPC:

September 12 [Sat.]: Sinag-tala presents its first-ever Poetry Kapihan, 2:30-4:30 PM
September 12 [Sat.]: Art Sale Benefit for California Stage and SPC, 5-8 PM
September 14 [Mon.]: Kick-off of poets’ college tour—Maya Khosla, Indigo Moor, Susan Kelly-DeWitt, Dennis Hock, 7:30 PM

•••Tuesdays, 7:30 PM: Sacramento Poetry Center Workshop at the Hart Center, 27th & J Sts., Sacramento. Free; bring 13 copies of your one-page poem to be read/critiqued. Info: Danyen Powell at 530-756-6228.

•••Wed. (9/9), 7:30 PM: Rattlesnake Press announces the release of a new chapbook by Susan Finkleman (Mirror, Mirror: Poems Of The Mother-Daughter Relationship, illustrated by Joseph Finkleman); a new HandyStuff blank journal from Katy Brown (A Capital Idea); and a littlesnake broadside from Marie Reynolds (Late Harvest). That's 1008 24th St., Sacramento. Be there!

•••Wednesdays, 9 PM: Mahogany Urban Poetry Series at Queen Sheba's Restaurant, 1704 Broadway (17th and Broadway), Sacramento. $5 cover, all ages.

•••Wednesdays, 5 PM: Dr. Andy’s Technology and Poetry Hour, KDVS radio station (90.3 FM) or http://www/kdvs.org/.

•••Thursdays, 8 PM: Poetry Unplugged at Luna’s Café, 1414 16th St., Sacramento. Featured readers, with open mic before and after.

•••Thursdays, 7 PM: “Life Sentence” reading at The Coffee Garden, 2904 Franklin Blvd., Sacramento. Open mic.

•••Thursdays, 10-11 AM (replayed Sundays 10-11 AM): Mountain Mama’s Earth Music with Nancy Bodily on 95.7 FM. Music/poetry woven around a central theme deeply tied to mountains/earth.

•••Sat. (9/12 and every 2nd and 4th Sat.), 10-11:30 AM: Sacramento Poetry Center 2nd and 4th Sat. workshop with Emmanuel Sigauke and Frank Dixon Graham. South Natomas Community Center (next door to S. Natomas Library), 2921 Truxel Rd., Sacramento. Bring ten copies of your one-page poem to read/critique. Info: grahampoet@aol.com/.

•••Sat. (9/12), 2 PM: The Chat Line: A Citrus Heights Art Talk, sponsored by Citrus Heights Area Poets. Barnes & Noble, Sunrise Av., Citrus Heights. Open mic. Lines forming now for readers and writers; which one will you be in?—Life Line, Laugh Line, Love Line, Liberty Line, Listening Line?

•••Sunday (9/13), 4-6 PM: Valona Deli 2nd Sun. Poetry Series in Crockett (1327 Pomona St., Crockett) features Kim Addonizio, the author of four poetry collections including Tell Me, A National Book Award Finalist. Her fifth collection, Lucifer at the Starlite, will be published by W.W. Norton in October 2009. Addonizio has also authored two instructional books on writing poetry: The Poet's Companion (with Dorianne Laux), and Ordinary Genius: A Guide for the Poet Within, both from W.W. Norton. Ordinary Genius will be available at the reading on September 13th. Her awards include two fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, a Guggenheim Fellowship,a Pushcart Prize, a Commonwealth Club Poetry Medal, and the John Ciardi Lifetime Achievement Award. Her poetry, fiction, and essays have appeared widely in anthologies, literary journals, and textbooks, including Alaska Quarterly Review, American Poetry Review, Bad Girls, Chick-Lit, Gettysburg Review, Paris Review, Poetry, and Threepenny Review. She teaches private workshops in Oakland and online. For open mic, please always bring a "back up" short poem (20 lines or less)—In case of a very large crowd, everyone can be heard with the "lightning round" open mic if necessary! Otherwise, bring a poem of 40 lines or less for open mic. And remember to stay for the wonderful Jazz at 6 PM. Info: Connie Post at Connie@poetrypost.com/.

__________________

INTERSPECIES
—Katy Brown

You are the soaring eagle to my burrowing sand crab:
we might as well be two species
gazing through the night mist toward Andromeda.

You are the elegant one — ordering from the French menu;
while I dribble consonants like a toddler talking through porridge.
You soar with angels while I burrow in the shoreline.

You always know the diplomatic path, the clear way
to reach consensus. Where you lead the way, I get lost,
gazing through the mist for a glimpse of stars.

You are always prompt, well prepared, impeccably dressed.
My entrances are late — sticky notes clinging to my sneakers.
Eagles fly with preened feathers. Crabs sleep in sandy beds.

I know I test your patience, mincing along my rocky path;
my sideways progress an annoyance for a skillful hunter —
circling in the void toward Andromeda.

But I whisper to you of moonlight in the tides, and midnight-
colored pearls cast up from the deep.
You are a soaring eagle, and I the shoreline crab, watching
for your return in the misty sky: a silhouette against Andromeda.


__________________

Today's LittleNip:

Life is intrisically boring and dangerous at the same time. At any given moment the floor may open up. Of course, it almost never does; that's what makes it so boring.

—Edward Gorey

__________________


—Medusa


SnakeWatch: What's New from Rattlesnake Press:

COMING IN SEPTEMBER:

Join us at The Book Collector Wednesday, September 9 at 7:30 PM
for the release of a new chapbook by
Susan Finkleman
(Mirror, Mirror: Poems Of The Mother-Daughter Relationship, illustrated by Joseph Finkleman),
plus a new HandyStuff blank journal from Katy Brown (A Capital Idea),
and a littlesnake broadside from Marie Reynolds (Late Harvest).


WTF!!: The third issue of WTF, the free quarterly journal from
Poetry Unplugged at Luna's Cafe that is edited by frank andrick,
is now available at The Book Collector,
or send me two bux and I'll mail you one.

Deadline for Issue #4 will be Oct. 15.
Submission guidelines are the same as for the Snake, but send your poems, photos, smallish art or prose pieces (500 words or less) to fandrickfabpub@hotmail.com (attachments preferred) or, if you’re snailing,
to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726 (clearly marked for WTF).

And be forewarned: this publication is for adults only, so you must be
over 18 years of age to submit. (More info at rattlesnakepress.com/.)

RATTLESNAKE REVIEW: Issue #22 is now available (free) at The Book Collector, or send me four bux and I'll mail you one. Or you can order copies of current or past issues through rattlesnakepress.com/.
Issue #23 will be available at The Book Collector the night of Sept. 9.
Deadline is November 15 for RR24: send 3-5 poems, smallish art pieces and/or photos (no bio, no cover letter, no simultaneous submissions or previously-published poems) to kathykieth@hotmail.com or

P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. E-mail attachments are preferred, but be sure to add all contact info, including snail address. Meanwhile, the snakes of the on-going Medusa are always hungry; keep that poetry comin', rain or shine!
Just let us know if your submission is for the Review or for Medusa, or for either one, and please—only one submission packet per issue of the quarterly Review.
(More info at rattlesnakepress.com/.)

Also available (free): littlesnake broadside #46: Snake Secrets: Getting Your Poetry Published in Rattlesnake Press (and lots of other places, besides!): A compendium of ideas for brushing up on your submissions process so as to make editors everywhere more happy, thereby increasing the likelihood of getting your poetry published. Pick up a copy at The Book Collector or write to me (include snail address) and I'll send you one. Free!

_________________

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.) Medusa cannot vouch for the moral fiber of other publications, contests, etc. that she lists, however, so submit to them at your own risk. For more info about the Snake Empire, including guidelines for submitting to or obtaining our publications, click on the link to the right of this column: Rattlesnake Press (rattlesnakepress.com). And be sure to sign up for Snakebytes, our monthly e-newsletter that will keep you up-to-date on all our ophidian chicanery.

Sunday, September 06, 2009

Can We Form Collectives?

Running Shadows
Photo by Bob Dreizler, Sacramento


COMMONWEALTH
—Tom Goff, Carmichael

We escape this Sunday towards Bodega Bay,
savoring black and white cows who munch yellow grasses
—and even a golden, horned, shaggy variety—
at farmsteads festooned with astonishing pink wild—lilies?—
then fill our heads with oysters and clam chowder
at The Tides, which, several doors, windows, lives
ago, was Hitchcock’s forum for the debate
between Tippi Hedren and that elderly,
hard-bitten British lady who insists
that birds cannot attack people; they can’t
form collectives, make conspiracies.
What can Tippi say? She knows what she saw…
we see a saltwater-slick young harbor seal
bob up from fish-dives, “showing his back above
the element he lives in.” So far submersed
within the element of our perceptions,
we bob up and down atop Bodega Head:
iceplant, mostly bloom-spent coast bush lupine,
caramel-colored granite sand, lime-green surf,
and fog as from a fog machine in a film.
We come back to learn north Auburn’s up in flames;
people and uncomprehending animals suffer;
this morning, fires just barely contained or snuffed,
the smoke, that direction, shows faintly out my window.
So fragmented our sensations, thoughts, and experiences
even in this accessible, technological world,
how can we knit ourselves one people, how
unite the fortunate and the unfortunate?
Can we form collectives? Conspiracy, law, or genetics,
has shaped some union of us, tight- or loose-knit:
if not commonwealth, what do we call this thing?


___________________


—Medusa


Saturday, September 05, 2009

Thickets And Day Stars


Photo by Stephani Schaefer, Los Molinos


CAMPING OUT
—B.Z. Niditch, Brookline, MA

By voiceless fields
six orange butterflies
circle shadows of reeds,
crossroads of thickets,
infinite saw grasses
by cicadas and myrtle
now out of eye reach
sink into a woolen sky
full of day stars.

Under greensward
watered by silted shores,
the six traverse
the spray over dunes,
devouring our sight
beneath a light wind
over a river way
drowned with seaweed.

Picture the dark water
of ongoing beds
trembling with turtles,
tuft obscured fauna
by charcoal stone quarries
effaced by runaways
wandering at dusk,
with crystalline memories
the six on thorn bushed
wave by roadside ditches.

__________________

TURNER'S POND
—B.Z. Niditch

Unlocking eyes
circle the earth's stone
near tall reeds
a cat gingerly walks
over other footsteps
in a ripening light
by the countryside pond
mingling at the shore
by ditch water's edge
early sparrows tremble
on anemic saw grass
by abandoned dark wind
bird song pierces
the green liquid silence
through a border forest
full of elm and pine
the feral cat leaves
the cold waterway
the daring sky blushes
by jigsaw sunshine
at a hazy distance
for the landscape painter
drowning in foliage.

__________________

CEDAR GROVE
—B.Z. Niditch

Half out of sunlight
you awake by a labyrinth
of ivy covered abandonment
overlooking geranium walls,
among fireflies and cicadas
playing on cedar grove green;
behind sunflowers
and beehive circles,
a child nurses undisturbed
in a totally unknown hour
amid an air of apple trees,
unaware of heedless honey
or the sting of violent yellow.

__________________

Thanks, B.Z. and Steph! B.Z. Niditch is a SnakePal who contributes to every issue of Rattlesnake Review, as is Photographer/Poet Steph Schaefer. Watch for more of their work in RR23, coming Wednesday, September 9 to a Book Collector store near you!

__________________

Today's LittleNip:

Autumn—
And a cicada's husk

falls like a tear.


—Shiki

__________________


—Medusa


SnakeWatch: What's New from Rattlesnake Press:

COMING IN SEPTEMBER:

Join us at The Book Collector Wednesday, September 9 at 7:30 PM
for the release of a new chapbook by
Susan Finkleman
(Mirror, Mirror: Poems Of The Mother-Daughter Relationship, illustrated by Joseph Finkleman);
plus a new HandyStuff blank journal from Katy Brown (A Capital Idea);
a littlesnake broadside from Marie Reynolds (Late Harvest);
and a brand new issue of Rattlesnake Review (#23)!


WTF!!: The third issue of WTF, the free quarterly journal from
Poetry Unplugged at Luna's Cafe that is edited by frank andrick,
is now available at The Book Collector,
or send me two bux and I'll mail you one.

Deadline for Issue #4 will be Oct. 15.
Submission guidelines are the same as for the Snake, but send your poems, photos, smallish art or prose pieces (500 words or less) to fandrickfabpub@hotmail.com (attachments preferred) or, if you’re snailing,
to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726 (clearly marked for WTF).

And be forewarned: this publication is for adults only, so you must be
over 18 years of age to submit. (More info at rattlesnakepress.com/.)

RATTLESNAKE REVIEW: Issue #22 is now available (free) at The Book Collector, or send me four bux and I'll mail you one. Or you can order copies of current or past issues through rattlesnakepress.com/.
Issue #23 will be available at The Book Collector the night of Sept. 9.
Deadline is November 15 for RR24: send 3-5 poems, smallish art pieces and/or photos (no bio, no cover letter, no simultaneous submissions or previously-published poems) to kathykieth@hotmail.com or

P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. E-mail attachments are preferred, but be sure to add all contact info, including snail address. Meanwhile, the snakes of the on-going Medusa are always hungry; keep that poetry comin', rain or shine!
Just let us know if your submission is for the Review or for Medusa, or for either one, and please—only one submission packet per issue of the quarterly Review.
(More info at rattlesnakepress.com/.)

Also available (free): littlesnake broadside #46: Snake Secrets: Getting Your Poetry Published in Rattlesnake Press (and lots of other places, besides!): A compendium of ideas for brushing up on your submissions process so as to make editors everywhere more happy, thereby increasing the likelihood of getting your poetry published. Pick up a copy at The Book Collector or write to me (include snail address) and I'll send you one. Free!

_________________

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.) Medusa cannot vouch for the moral fiber of other publications, contests, etc. that she lists, however, so submit to them at your own risk. For more info about the Snake Empire, including guidelines for submitting to or obtaining our publications, click on the link to the right of this column: Rattlesnake Press (rattlesnakepress.com). And be sure to sign up for Snakebytes, our monthly e-newsletter that will keep you up-to-date on all our ophidian chicanery.

Friday, September 04, 2009

Lodging In Solid Rooms


Marie Reynolds
and her daughter, Meredith, in Poland


OFF-SEASON
(Sierra City, California)

—Marie Reynolds, Sacramento


Mornings, we linger in the Red Moose Café
with the Caltrans crew, and Nate & Tammi,
(who own the place), cups of coffee and mid-
week news. In the afternoon, rain begins.
We listen to Mozart, Rutter, Faure. I watch
you doze on the iron bed, toss and sigh,
try to slow your shallow breathing. We tell
ourselves it’s the altitude – up this high
it’s hard to keep alveoli open. The phone
in the lodge seldom rings. A red sign blinks
VACANCY. We like it, though – the sky is low
and no one comes. A river runs through
the canyon below, pummels and sprays
unsettled rock. Friction. Resistance. We’re
restless. I listen. I watch you breathe. You wake,
prod the embers in the Franklin stove, swallow
your pills with a Diet Coke. We don’t say
hope, we wait and see. The innkeeper rummages
outside our door. Your hand is warm. We’re lucky,
you say, and I agree. We come to lodge
in solid rooms. We leave the windows open
at night. We let the sound of the river in.



_________________

Marie Reynolds began writing poetry at the tender age of fifty-two. Her poems have been published in Ekphrasis, Poetry Now and Rattlesnake Review, as well as the online site, A Women’s Writing Salon. She has had the good fortune to study with accomplished poets and teachers in the Sacramento area over the last several years.
Join us at The Book Collector Wednesday, September 9 at 7:30 PM
for the release of Marie's new littlesnake broadside from Rattlesnake Press, Late Harvest.



This weekend in NorCal poetry:

•••Sat. (9/4 and every 1st Sat.): Rhythm and Rhyme readings at Butch N’ Nellies near 19th & I Sts., Sacramento. Televised music, open mic. Info: myspace.com/RNRshow/.

•••Monday (9/7), 7:30 PM: Sacramento Poetry Center’s Book Release Event for Tim Kahl’s new book, Possessing Yourself. HQ for the Arts, 1719 25th St., Sacramento. Drinks and a tantalizing spread will be offered. Tim Kahl’s work has been published in Prairie Schooner, American Letters & Commentary, Berkeley Poetry Review, Caliban, Connecticut Review, Fourteen Hills, George Washington Review, Illuminations, Indiana Review, The Journal, Limestone, Nimrod, Ninth Letter, Notre Dame Review, Parthenon West Review, South Dakota Quarterly, The Spoon River Poetry Review, The Texas Review, and many other journals in the U.S. He has translated German poet Rolf Haufs, Austrian avant-gardist, Friederike Mayröcker; Brazilian poets, Lêdo Ivo and Marly de Oliveira; and the poems of the Portuguese language’s only Nobel Laureate, José Saramago. He also appears as Victor Schnickelfritz at the poetry and poetics blog, The Great American Pinup (http://www.greatamericanpinup.blogspot.com/). Additionally, he is also the editor for Bald Trickster Press. He can also be found online at http://www.timkahl.com/.


B.L.'s Drive-Bys: A Micro-Review from B.L. Kennedy:

Poetry Papers 21-30
by Jimmy Ray West Jr.
10 pp, $2
duckpoetry@hotmail.com

If you’ve read my previous review of chapbooks by the local poet Jimmy Ray West Jr., I can add nothing new. For as much as I like the work of this young man, I can’t help but feel that it is fractured and unfinished and not, under any condition, made for the page. However, if I judge this chapbook by its raw, undiluted emotion, then we have a strong, uncompromising voice in Sacramento poetry that is reminiscent of a young Todd Cirillo and is as untamed as a Steve Vanoni. The trouble here lies within. I said it before, I’ll say it again: Jimmy Ray West Jr. is a voice that needs to be experienced live. So, if you have a chance to catch any of his readings at Luna’s Café, you’ll get the full impact of this talented young poet.

—B.L. Kennedy, Reviewer-in-Residence

__________________

MOVING AWAY
(for Jim)
—Margaret Ellis Hill, Fair Oaks


1.

A horn honks, but I’m not willing
to leave. Chests of drawers
contain things to smell, taste, embrace:
logo stamped T-shirts,
soft jeans, handkerchiefs,
your favorite yellow cardigan:
wrapped quarters, the Irish bear:
blue-striped socks worn to cradle
your leg so you could walk:
the smell and pine, spearmint and aloe.
I sit in the indentation of the bed
where you lay content and still
on that last night.

2.

I ask the driver to wait,
bear with my slow pace.
I want to take you with me
leave nothing behind for dust
to quilt, for thrift shop’s claim.
In the huge hole of silence,
I fight to save you in my mind,
not discarded out a car window,
driving down a road whose light dims
the farther away I travel.

__________________

NAKED LADIES ARE DYING

in dusty fields alongside abandoned farm-
houses, where well-worn hands once planted
a few friendly faces. . . Late August heat

has finished short leafless lives: faded pink
bonnets bob away from searing sun, bow
to the golden grass crowded around bare

feet. Farmhouses are just as faded: porches sag
as paint peels off the dry wood. But the naked
ladies will be back when next year's sun climbs

once again into August: fresh faces will
remember those well-worn hands
planted in the past. . .


—Kathy Kieth, Pollock Pines

____________________

LATE, PASSING PRAIRIE FARM
—William Stafford

All night like a star a single bulb
shines from the eave of the barn.
Light extends itself more and more
freely into farther angles and overhead
into the trees. Where light ends
the world ends.

Someone left the light burning, but
the farm is alone. There is so much
silence that the house leans toward
the road. The last echo from dust
falling through floor joists happened
years ago.

Owls made a few dark lines across
that glow, but now the light has
erased all but itself—is now a pearl for
birds that move in the dark. They polish
this jewel by air from their wings. This glow
is their still dream.

The sill of the house is worn by
steps of travelers, gone—boards tell
their passage, their ending, copied
into the race. When you pass here, traveler,
you too can't keep from making sounds,
like theirs, that will last.

__________________

Today's LittleNip:

HOW TO EAT A POEM
—Eve Merriam

Don't be polite.
Bite in.
Pick it up with your fingers and lick the juice
that may run down your chin.
It is ready and ripe now, whenever you are.
You do not need a knife or fork or spoon
or plate or napkin or tablecloth.
For there is no core
or stem
or rind
or pit
or seed
or skin
to throw away.

__________________


—Medusa


SnakeWatch: What's New from Rattlesnake Press:

COMING IN SEPTEMBER:

Join us at The Book Collector Wednesday, September 9 at 7:30 PM
for the release of a new chapbook by
Susan Finkleman
(Mirror, Mirror: Poems Of The Mother-Daughter Relationship, illustrated by Joseph Finkleman);
plus a new HandyStuff blank journal from Katy Brown (A Capital Idea);
a littlesnake broadside from Marie Reynolds (Late Harvest);
and a brand new issue of Rattlesnake Review (#23)!


WTF!!: The third issue of WTF, the free quarterly journal from
Poetry Unplugged at Luna's Cafe that is edited by frank andrick,
is now available at The Book Collector,
or send me two bux and I'll mail you one.

Deadline for Issue #4 will be Oct. 15.
Submission guidelines are the same as for the Snake, but send your poems, photos, smallish art or prose pieces (500 words or less) to fandrickfabpub@hotmail.com (attachments preferred) or, if you’re snailing,
to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726 (clearly marked for WTF).

And be forewarned: this publication is for adults only, so you must be
over 18 years of age to submit. (More info at rattlesnakepress.com/.)

RATTLESNAKE REVIEW: Issue #22 is now available (free) at The Book Collector, or send me four bux and I'll mail you one. Or you can order copies of current or past issues through rattlesnakepress.com/.
Issue #23 will be available at The Book Collector the night of Sept. 9.
Deadline is November 15 for RR24: send 3-5 poems, smallish art pieces and/or photos (no bio, no cover letter, no simultaneous submissions or previously-published poems) to kathykieth@hotmail.com or

P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. E-mail attachments are preferred, but be sure to add all contact info, including snail address. Meanwhile, the snakes of the on-going Medusa are always hungry; keep that poetry comin', rain or shine!
Just let us know if your submission is for the Review or for Medusa, or for either one, and please—only one submission packet per issue of the quarterly Review.
(More info at rattlesnakepress.com/.)

Also available (free): littlesnake broadside #46: Snake Secrets: Getting Your Poetry Published in Rattlesnake Press (and lots of other places, besides!): A compendium of ideas for brushing up on your submissions process so as to make editors everywhere more happy, thereby increasing the likelihood of getting your poetry published. Pick up a copy at The Book Collector or write to me (include snail address) and I'll send you one. Free!

_________________

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.) Medusa cannot vouch for the moral fiber of other publications, contests, etc. that she lists, however, so submit to them at your own risk. For more info about the Snake Empire, including guidelines for submitting to or obtaining our publications, click on the link to the right of this column: Rattlesnake Press (rattlesnakepress.com). And be sure to sign up for Snakebytes, our monthly e-newsletter that will keep you up-to-date on all our ophidian chicanery.

Thursday, September 03, 2009

Each-ness and Us-Ness


Susan Finkleman


A SMILE

silent as dawn
slides between cobalt bottles,
lights on my hands, curled
around a morning mug of tea,
then slips between
the stories I tell myself.


—Susan Finkleman, Sacramento

__________________

Thanks, Susan!
Join us at The Book Collector (1008 24th St., Sacramento) this coming Wednesday, September 9 at 7:30 PM for the release of Susan's new chapbook (Mirror, Mirror: Poems Of The Mother-Daughter Relationship, illustrated by Joseph Finkleman). Susan Finkleman, a retired teacher and practitioner of meditation, now manages a beautiful cemetery. Her poetry has appeared in Susurrus, Rattlesnake Review, Poetry Now, Sacramento News & Review, Sacramento Bee, Tiger’s Eye, Yolo Crow, and Welcome Home. She also publishes in trade journals, as well as writing and performing two-voice poetry with her husband, Joseph. You can learn more on their website: www.visionsandviews.com/, and a collection of their work is available from rattlesnakepress.com/.


INTERRUPTED CONVERSATION
—Susan Finkleman

You slam the door, clanging ‘good riddance,’
but your words, angry red birds,
pound me with plumage
in their frenzy to protect
some mysterious corner of yourself
I never wanted to attack.
They throw themselves against the glass
in a wild melisma of motion meant to break me,
re-make me into someone who won’t hurt you,
each-ness and us-ness
lost in a blizzard of feathers.

__________________

VIEWS
—Susan Finkleman

Always I wanted windows:
a way out of the dove greys and wines
into the scarlets and umbers of the fall leaves
or the sparrow-winged spring,
slicing through skies of Michigan blue.

You gave me a crimson umbrella once,
like one you wept to own when you were small.
Courting bad luck, I unfurled it, tipped
and spun it on its shiny knob: indoors.
It did not shelter me from your dismay.

Hiding in the shadows of the sculpted carpet,
I longed to ride the wind-spattered rain
drumming its secrets against the window.
Nose pressed to glass, I traced
the gnarled black branchings of our family tree
generations of hollow women
bent with fruiting emptiness.

Still you peddle guilt like the umbrella vendor
and I barter six rain soaked panes
against the unbroken wall of your bitterness.

__________________

POLAR MOTHER
—Susan Finkleman

Shaggy white mother,
fierce cave of fur and instinct
arching over her young
until they are ready
and she drives them away.

Will they remember in old age,
recognize her on the trail,
like humans, bound to their cluttered pasts
by memory and obligation?

I am a mother,
a daughter,
and the rust red pain of both.
I want to be a bear,
white against the snow.


(First published in Rattlesnake Review)

__________________

TODAY COMPASSION SHOWS HER FACE
—Susan Finkleman

White as bone china,
green as spring reeds;
I am awash in gratitude
entering her estuary.
Shards of wisdom glint,
pearlescent, among the riprap.
Below, expectations
ground fine as sand
by what is.

__________________

Today's LittleNip:

If you cannot read all your books, at any rate handle, or as it were, fondle them—peer into them, let them fall open where they will, read from the first sentence that arrests the eye, set them back on the shelves with your own hands, arrange them on your own plan so that you at least know where they are. Let them be your friends; let them at any rate be your acquaintances.

—Winston Churchill


A room without books is like a body without soul.

—Cicero

__________________


—Medusa


SnakeWatch: What's New from Rattlesnake Press:

COMING IN SEPTEMBER:

Join us at The Book Collector Wednesday, September 9 at 7:30 PM
for the release of a new chapbook by
Susan Finkleman
(Mirror, Mirror: Poems Of The Mother-Daughter Relationship, illustrated by Joseph Finkleman);
plus a new HandyStuff blank journal from Katy Brown (A Capital Idea);
a littlesnake broadside from Marie Reynolds (Late Harvest);
and a brand new issue of Rattlesnake Review (#23)!


WTF!!: The third issue of WTF, the free quarterly journal from
Poetry Unplugged at Luna's Cafe that is edited by frank andrick,
is now available at The Book Collector,
or send me two bux and I'll mail you one.

Deadline for Issue #4 will be Oct. 15.
Submission guidelines are the same as for the Snake, but send your poems, photos, smallish art or prose pieces (500 words or less) to fandrickfabpub@hotmail.com (attachments preferred) or, if you’re snailing,
to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726 (clearly marked for WTF).

And be forewarned: this publication is for adults only, so you must be
over 18 years of age to submit. (More info at rattlesnakepress.com/.)

RATTLESNAKE REVIEW: Issue #22 is now available (free) at The Book Collector, or send me four bux and I'll mail you one. Or you can order copies of current or past issues through rattlesnakepress.com/.
Issue #23 will be available at The Book Collector the night of Sept. 9.
Deadline is November 15 for RR24: send 3-5 poems, smallish art pieces and/or photos (no bio, no cover letter, no simultaneous submissions or previously-published poems) to kathykieth@hotmail.com or

P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. E-mail attachments are preferred, but be sure to add all contact info, including snail address. Meanwhile, the snakes of the on-going Medusa are always hungry; keep that poetry comin', rain or shine!
Just let us know if your submission is for the Review or for Medusa, or for either one, and please—only one submission packet per issue of the quarterly Review.
(More info at rattlesnakepress.com/.)

Also available (free): littlesnake broadside #46: Snake Secrets: Getting Your Poetry Published in Rattlesnake Press (and lots of other places, besides!): A compendium of ideas for brushing up on your submissions process so as to make editors everywhere more happy, thereby increasing the likelihood of getting your poetry published. Pick up a copy at The Book Collector or write to me (include snail address) and I'll send you one. Free!

_________________

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.) Medusa cannot vouch for the moral fiber of other publications, contests, etc. that she lists, however, so submit to them at your own risk. For more info about the Snake Empire, including guidelines for submitting to or obtaining our publications, click on the link to the right of this column: Rattlesnake Press (rattlesnakepress.com). And be sure to sign up for Snakebytes, our monthly e-newsletter that will keep you up-to-date on all our ophidian chicanery.

Wednesday, September 02, 2009

Keeping Shadows As Guests


Thinking about our friends in Auburn
Photo by Frank Dixon Graham, Sacramento


A RENTED ROOM
—Taylor Graham, Placerville


From the turnpike, it was hidden
by Virginia curtains of green.
Beyond a stone gate-house with cobwebbed
windows, the two-story house that once
was grand. Now, sumac bled
on the steps. Front hall too dark
for light-bulbs.
We climbed the stairs
and shut the door behind us.
Bathroom floor decomposing
in linoleum flakes, September sun caught
in rusty screens. Humid canopies
of grandfather oak.
Sleep wrapped in sweaty sheets.
Downstairs, from kitchen to
parlor to locked back door, I knew
the lady of the house silently
patrolled by flashlight
her corridors, her home.

___________________

OUT OF EXILE
—Patricia Wellingham-Jones, Tehama

You stepped down from the banged-up
yellow Ryder rental truck
with its missing window, red
gaffer-taped side mirror, fish-tailed
car trailer and gave me
the biggest smile I’ve seen on your face
since you were six.
Heading out of here, you said,
stretching tight limbs until they popped,
the nose of the truck and your eyes
pointing north. I filled you up
with home-cooked food, gave you
jugs of tea on the creek deck
and stayed myself from flinging my arms
too many times around your grown-up neck.
The cats kept you company all night.
Breakfast among flowers
and great blue heron and kingfisher
then you stepped back up
into that big yellow truck
and were gone.


(First published in All Things Girl, Oct. 2002)

__________________

PROBABLY TIME TO MOVE
—Kevin Jones, Fair Oaks

You
Somehow feel
That you
Never
Became
A pillar
Of the community
When you
See in the
Rearview of the U-Haul
The neighbors
Already
Dancing in the street.

__________________

SESTINAS
—David Milnor, Sacramento

Sestinas find a curious way to tell
a story using end words that repeat
and follow with a soft hypnotic beat,
as if to catch the reader in a spell—
a spell of ancient wizards who would dwell
in magic lands where one might sometimes meet
giants, trolls and knights whose every feat
was told in misty hollows on the fell.
Some like to write sestinas in our day,
with no more trolls and giants living now—
no shining knights in suits of burnished mail.
We wonder then if anyone can say
if latter day sestinas can allow
some wondrous hidden dream world to unveil.

__________________

VISITATION BY MIRACLES
—D.R. Wagner, Elk Grove

A night train grinds
The edges of our understanding.

We make light of it, thinking
It is only a small disturbance,
Something we can overcome,
A brightness there in that late occurrence.

We are given to know many things.
Why I cry being so much different
Than why you cry and how would
We know what fills the heart or leaves
It open for visitations by miracles.

Somewhere it comes together, where
The tracks seem to converge in a distance.
But that is a place we cannot reach
Given all things, from sleep and dreams
To heated arguments and cursing at one another.

Eventually the sounds recede, a long
Hollow road into a further darkness.
We essay to bring songs, some kind of gift
To it; it remains an unknown god,
A blistering of angels just before consciousness
Decides we have had enough and leaves.

__________________

KEEPING SHADOWS
—D.R. Wagner

The lights come on.
They insist we move toward them.

We cannot recall that everything
Around them is without sound.

We follow them. Sometimes they are people,
Sometimes they are a fulfillment upon
The spine, enticing and crippling simultaneously,
As if it were a dance we learned
In grammar school between naps,
Between learning and listening to stories.

Sometimes we can go no further.
Everything is pain. Everything has finer
Clothing than we could ever wear.
We can barely stand to look at one another.

We keep shadows as guests.
Night after night they tell us
Beautiful tales of death and suffering.

Knowing they are lies,
We believe them.

__________________

Today's LittleNip:

A man said to the universe:
"Sir, I exist!"
"However," replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation."

—Steven Crane

__________________


—Medusa


SnakeWatch: What's New from Rattlesnake Press:

COMING IN SEPTEMBER:

Join us at The Book Collector Wednesday, September 9 at 7:30 PM
for the release of a new chapbook by
Susan Finkleman
(Mirror, Mirror: Poems Of The Mother-Daughter Relationship, illustrated by Joseph Finkleman);
plus a new HandyStuff blank journal from Katy Brown (A Capital Idea);
a littlesnake broadside from Marie Reynolds (Late Harvest);
and a brand new issue of Rattlesnake Review (#23)!


WTF!!: The third issue of WTF, the free quarterly journal from
Poetry Unplugged at Luna's Cafe that is edited by frank andrick,
is now available at The Book Collector,
or send me two bux and I'll mail you one.

Deadline for Issue #4 will be Oct. 15.
Submission guidelines are the same as for the Snake, but send your poems, photos, smallish art or prose pieces (500 words or less) to fandrickfabpub@hotmail.com (attachments preferred) or, if you’re snailing,
to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726 (clearly marked for WTF).

And be forewarned: this publication is for adults only, so you must be
over 18 years of age to submit. (More info at rattlesnakepress.com/.)

RATTLESNAKE REVIEW: Issue #22 is now available (free) at The Book Collector, or send me four bux and I'll mail you one. Or you can order copies of current or past issues through rattlesnakepress.com/.
Issue #23 will be available at The Book Collector the night of Sept. 9.
Deadline is November 15 for RR24: send 3-5 poems, smallish art pieces and/or photos (no bio, no cover letter, no simultaneous submissions or previously-published poems) to kathykieth@hotmail.com or

P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. E-mail attachments are preferred, but be sure to add all contact info, including snail address. Meanwhile, the snakes of the on-going Medusa are always hungry; keep that poetry comin', rain or shine!
Just let us know if your submission is for the Review or for Medusa, or for either one, and please—only one submission packet per issue of the quarterly Review.
(More info at rattlesnakepress.com/.)

Also available (free): littlesnake broadside #46: Snake Secrets: Getting Your Poetry Published in Rattlesnake Press (and lots of other places, besides!): A compendium of ideas for brushing up on your submissions process so as to make editors everywhere more happy, thereby increasing the likelihood of getting your poetry published. Pick up a copy at The Book Collector or write to me (include snail address) and I'll send you one. Free!

_________________

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.) Medusa cannot vouch for the moral fiber of other publications, contests, etc. that she lists, however, so submit to them at your own risk. For more info about the Snake Empire, including guidelines for submitting to or obtaining our publications, click on the link to the right of this column: Rattlesnake Press (rattlesnakepress.com). And be sure to sign up for Snakebytes, our monthly e-newsletter that will keep you up-to-date on all our ophidian chicanery.

Tuesday, September 01, 2009

Moving Day


MOVING

—Frank Steele


The house inside still looks like a house
but the blank rectangle of light
through the propped wide open front door
means emptiness. Inside, the slow men
move like mourners, noncommittal
among the labeled furniture, once decent
but today grown strangely shabby. Each table
is listed "scratched." In brightening
room to room, our pine-planked voices echo
as if they never spoke here before.

We watch moments of our lives move out
piece by piece through the front door
carelessly handled with care
by, for the moment, members of the family
(moving out, they move in
helplessly intimate, their big arms
touching our things, hauling
the weight of what we are).
We feel apologetic to be so heavy
and stand around like guests being served
saying, "Yes, that," and, "No, not that,"
watching decor become debris, and sunlight
sanding the floors already.

_________________

I drove by your house today at about 5 AM; pre-dawn trip down from Pollock to the airport to drop off Mom-in-Law Sammie Robertson-Corp, a loyal reader of Medusa (since we don't call her, that's how she knows we're still alive) who has even been known to tack up a poem on the Kitchen wall now and then. After five years by the Bay of Coos, she's moving back to Sac-environs, which brings us to our Seed of the Week: Moving Day. Write about your best moves, your worst, most painful, most traumatic, most exhilarating. We have several birdhouses on the property, and our local chickadee pair raised a brood in one house and then moved to another for the second brood. Stuff like that. Send your moving fruits to kathykieth@hotmail.com or P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. No deadline on SOW's; here are a couple from last week's What Remains by Peggy Hill (who just moved, herself, in fact!).


BADWATER, DEATH VALLEY, CA
—Margaret Ellis Hill, Fair Oaks

I was there stepping on the land—
a dry inland sea, larger
than eyes could imagine.
Many brave men tried to cross
this wilderness alone, eyes
on calico canyons and mountains,
but never coming closer to safety.
A place called Stovepipe dunes,
skeletons lie exposed, bones found
in places named: Hell’s Gate,
Starvation Canyon, Dead Man Pass.

__________________

SILENCE HURTS THE EARS
—Margaret Ellis Hill

On rocks, I decipher petroglyphs,
Shoshone stories of life here—
visible footpaths that wind through
somber red-hued hills.
I find myself walking with them,
adjusting to the harshness of the valley.
I watch heat waves, listen to murmurs
those ghost echoes undulate.
I hear the Shaman song, try to
understand the words,
how to dance for the gods.

__________________

NOTE TO THE PREVIOUS TENANTS
—John Updike

Thank you for leaving the bar of soap,
the roll of paper towels,
the sponge mop, the bucket.

I tried to scrub the white floor clean,
discovered it impossible
and realized you had tried too.

Often, no doubt. The long hair in the sink
was a clue to what? Were you
boys or girls or what?

How often did you dance on the floor?
The place was broom clean. Your lives
were a great wind that has swept by.

Thank you; even the dirt
seemed a gift, a continuity
underlying the breaking of leases.

And the soap, green in veins
like meltable marble, and curved
like a bit of an ideal woman.

Lone, I took a bath with your soap
and had no towel not paper ones
and dried in the air like the floor.

___________________

THE NEW HOUSE
—Vern Rutsala

This place is not ours:
the window sill refuses
to wear our drying wishbone
and the floors don't fit

the worn spot for carpets
we seem to take
everywhere we go.
The house still sings

its own tune, sending
our footsteps along the floor
through timbers that creak
to keep the basement washer

company, peopling that lair
of webs and laundry
where the furnace lifts
its arms to warm

the room. But the rooms
are cold, bent
on remembering
other hands caressing

woodwork with soft cloths
and feet that always
tiptoed. Wallpaper
has memorized
the places where
their pictures hung.
Soon enough, we know,
the rooms will give in.

Our own mice will shatter
cupboards and later
we will sprain our wrists
opening new bills.

But last night
windows threatened
to bring in the storm
and the back door banged

and banged, giving us
a message we could understand,
something menacing and wooden
that spoke, asking us to travel

to the storm's blind, silent eye.

__________________

GRANDMA CHOOSES HER PLOT AT
THE COUNTRY CEMETERY
—Paul Ruffin

If it can't be out on the hill somewhere
I guess it'll have to be here.
I don't expect where really matters,
only not next to him, not close:
life was too hard for him,
he's soured the soil. Over by
that leaning oak would do, though
the shade won't count—sun, shade,
and shower won't matter then—
and digging them roots'll be hard.
Fine, I want them to suffer putting me down.
And you can find me better next to it,
if you've a mind to come here again
after I'm under and the hill's gone.
And I don't care what you say:
you'll sell that farm and never go back.
It never was nothing to any of you.
By that leaning oak will be just fine;
and make my box simply and cheap,
pine or gum if you can get it, never
liked them shiny steel things: God can't
get to you and you can't get out.
When he splits the sky with the judgment sound,
I want the busting out easy. I want
the coming up easier than the going down.





__________________

Today's LittleNip:

...the whole world is a sky-blue butterfly
And words are the nets to capture it.

—Muhammad al-Ghuzzi, Tunis

__________________


—Medusa


SnakeWatch: What's New from Rattlesnake Press:

COMING IN SEPTEMBER:

Join us at The Book Collector Wednesday, September 9 at 7:30 PM
for the release of a new chapbook by
Susan Finkleman
(Mirror, Mirror: Poems Of The Mother-Daughter Relationship, illustrated by Joseph Finkleman);
plus a new HandyStuff blank journal from Katy Brown (A Capital Idea);
a littlesnake broadside from Marie Reynolds (Late Harvest);
and a brand new issue of Rattlesnake Review (#23)!


WTF!!: The third issue of WTF, the free quarterly journal from
Poetry Unplugged at Luna's Cafe that is edited by frank andrick,
is now available at The Book Collector,
or send me two bux and I'll mail you one.

Deadline for Issue #4 will be Oct. 15.
Submission guidelines are the same as for the Snake, but send your poems, photos, smallish art or prose pieces (500 words or less) to fandrickfabpub@hotmail.com (attachments preferred) or, if you’re snailing,
to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726 (clearly marked for WTF).

And be forewarned: this publication is for adults only, so you must be
over 18 years of age to submit. (More info at rattlesnakepress.com/.)

RATTLESNAKE REVIEW: Issue #22 is now available (free) at The Book Collector, or send me four bux and I'll mail you one. Or you can order copies of current or past issues through rattlesnakepress.com/.
Issue #23 will be available at The Book Collector the night of Sept. 9.
Deadline is November 15 for RR24: send 3-5 poems, smallish art pieces and/or photos (no bio, no cover letter, no simultaneous submissions or previously-published poems) to kathykieth@hotmail.com or

P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. E-mail attachments are preferred, but be sure to add all contact info, including snail address. Meanwhile, the snakes of the on-going Medusa are always hungry; keep that poetry comin', rain or shine!
Just let us know if your submission is for the Review or for Medusa, or for either one, and please—only one submission packet per issue of the quarterly Review.
(More info at rattlesnakepress.com/.)

Also available (free): littlesnake broadside #46: Snake Secrets: Getting Your Poetry Published in Rattlesnake Press (and lots of other places, besides!): A compendium of ideas for brushing up on your submissions process so as to make editors everywhere more happy, thereby increasing the likelihood of getting your poetry published. Pick up a copy at The Book Collector or write to me (include snail address) and I'll send you one. Free!

_________________

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.) Medusa cannot vouch for the moral fiber of other publications, contests, etc. that she lists, however, so submit to them at your own risk. For more info about the Snake Empire, including guidelines for submitting to or obtaining our publications, click on the link to the right of this column: Rattlesnake Press (rattlesnakepress.com). And be sure to sign up for Snakebytes, our monthly e-newsletter that will keep you up-to-date on all our ophidian chicanery.