Laying Hens Are Happy Hens

POULTRY PLAN
—Jeanine Stevens, Sacramento

Laying hens are happy
hens, scratch with grain

twice daily, heavy layers
are big eaters, don’t

waste feed on slackers
remove quitters quickly

watch for roundworms
drafts and droppings

laying hens are happy
hens—no roosters allowed.

(Food For Victory pamphlet, 1943)

_____________________________

Thanks, Jeanine! Look for Jeanine Steven's rattlechap, The Keeping Room, at The Book Collector.

A free copy of Pearl Stein Selinsky's new rattlechap, Vic & Me, will be coming to Jeanine and to all those other poets who are brave enough to send in "found" poems before Tuesday (1/16)—that's tonight!—at midnight. Found poems are usually a kind of list poem that's generated from unlikely sources such as newspaper articles, catalogs, junk mail—any collection of words that seems to have elements that strike you as somehow poetic, either re-arranged or just as they are. Or it might be something less commercial: a note you found on the ground, or the juxtaposition of two graphitti, or some inadvertant slip of the tongue. Send it/them to kathykieth@hotmail.com or POBx 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726, and see some of last week's posts for more examples.


Los Escritores correction:

•••Saturday, January 20, 7:30 PM: "Raíces Latinas" (Latin Roots): Los Escritores del Nuevo Sol presents Adrián Arias, a Spanish-language poet from San Francisco’s Mission Cultural Center, who is also a graphic artist. More on him at: http://adrian-arias.blogspot.com. Joining Adrián as MC and co-reader will be our member Jim Michael. Cost is $5 or as can be afforded; no one turned away for lack of $. Info: Graciela at 916-456-5323; more info at the website: www.escritoresdelnuevosol.com. [NOTE: Sacramento Poetry Center's Poetry Now listed this reading for Friday, Jan. 19; then the reader called to say he would have to shift it to Saturday. Hence the confusion.]


New Poet's Lane page:

Cynthia Bryant, doyenne of Poet's Lane, writes: I plan on adding a new page, called "That Would Be Telling", where I ask a question and post the answers I receive. First question, How has poetry changed your life? Check it out at www.poetslane.com; write to Cynthia at PoetsLane@comcast.net.


Tonight:

•••Tuesday (1/16), 8:30 PM: Bistro 33 series in Historic City Hall, 226 F St. (3rd & F), Davis. Open mic after.


This just in from Stockton:

David Humphreys writes: Michael Fitzgerald, columnist at the Stockton Record, is taking entries in his tidbit contest, which is what he's calling a prose poem. Count 55 words in the body of the text; don't count your title. Deadline is Weds (1/17), 5:30 PM. Send submissions to michaelf@recordnet.com; best way is to paste into body of message or attach a Word document. Be sure to give your day phone # so he can give the winner an interview and the brass ring; there's a $60 prize!

_______________________

WINTER WONDERLAND
—Jeanine Stevens, Sacramento

Sun seeping
piano keys glistening
red skaters spinning on an icy pond

fir trees dancing, their tips cutting
silhouettes in a steel blue sky

a crystal white meadow gleaming
and, snow falling—all, on its own.


(Sheet music, published 1934)

_____________________________

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com 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.)

Revelations, Obliged & Otherwise

PATHOLOGIES: HOPE*
—Robert Grossklaus, Rancho Cordova

I hate hope.
It's everywhere.
One measure of success.
The marketing of optimism
reduces the tolerance of other people's suffering.
As a Constant Judge;
collectivizing the labor is a progressive process.
"Your anger against me might have been wrath."
Secular rationalism, ambient Protestantism;
"I'm optimistic that all problems
will be solved."

Quotidian activities eluding
positive psychologists may include:
child-raising
airplane pilots
the poor
the war-ravaged
the majority.
Hope? What about a cure?
There. It's out.
Fuck hope. Keep us alive.


*Found mostly in "Pathologies of Hope" by Barbara Ehrenreich with a few lines from Harper's Magazine Feb. '07

_______________________

Thanks, RG! A free copy of Pearl Stein Selinsky's new rattlechap, Vic & Me, will be coming to Robbie and to all those other poets who are brave enough to send in "found" poems before Tuesday (1/16)—that's tomorrow—at midnight. Found poems are usually a kind of list poem that's generated from unlikely sources such as newspaper articles, catalogs, junk mail—any collection of words that seems to have elements that strike you as somehow poetic, either re-arranged or just as they are. Or it might be something less commercial: a note you found on the ground, or the juxtaposition of two graphitti, or some inadvertant slip of the tongue. Send it/them to kathykieth@hotmail.com or POBx 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726, and see some of last week's posts for more examples.


Hear Bill Williams read:

Peggy Hill sent me this William Carlos Williams site, which includes audio of him reading. I'm sorry that it's not a direct link; you'll have to cut and paste, but it's an excellent site: http://writing.upenn.edu/pennsound/x/Williams-WC.html


This week's poetry calendar—and it's a biggie!

•••There will be no Sacramento Poetry Center reading tonight (Monday, 1/15), due to the Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday. Next Monday's reader (1/22) will be Meg Withers.

•••Tuesday (1/16), 8:30 PM: Bistro 33 series in Historic City Hall, 226 F St. (3rd & F), Davis. Open mic after.

•••Weds. (1/17), 10 PM-midnight: Mics and Moods at Capitol Garage, 1500 K St. Features and open mic.

•••81st Poet's Dinner/Contest postmark deadline for entries is this Weds., 1/17. Event date is 3/17/07; you must be present to win. For complete rules and info, visit www.bayareapoetscoalition.org and click on the Poet's Dinner/Contest link.

•••Thursday (1/18), 8 PM: Poetry Unplugged at Luna's Cafe, 1414 16th St., Sac. features Beth Lisick, Michelle Tea, and Tara Jepsen traveling to Luna's from San Francisco, to be joined by local lit-wonders Becca Costello, Rachel Leibrock, and Rachel Gregg. Open mic before/after. Free. Info: 916-441-3931 or www.lunascafe.com.

•••Also Thurs., 8-11 PM: Vibe Sessions at Cobbler Inn, 3520 Stockton Blvd. (next to Colonial Theatre). Open mic, all ages, $5.

•••Friday (1/19), 7 PM: Our House Poetry Series features Elsie Whitlow Feliz and Don Feliz. Our House Gallery is in the El Dorado Hills shopping center; take the Latrobe exit south. Open mic after.

•••Also Friday (1/19), 7:30 PM: Kim Addonizio will be the featured reader at the Nevada County Poetry Series Annual Fundraiser. Kim Addonizio is a passionate poet, fiction writer, and teacher, finalist for the 2000 National Book Award, and recipient of a Guggenheim fellowship, two fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, a Pushcart Prize, and a Commonwealth Club Poetry Medal. Kim has authored four collections of poetry, most recently What Is This Thing Called Love (2004, W.W. Norton). Her previous three books of poetry are from BOA Editions: The Philosopher's Club, Jimmy & Rita, and Tell Me, which was a finalist for the 2000 National Book Award. A book of stories, In the Box Called Pleasure, was published by Fiction Collective 2. She is also co-author, with Dorianne Laux, of The Poet's Companion: A Guide to the Pleasures of Writing Poetry (W.W. Norton). With Cheryl Dumesnil she co-edited Dorothy Parker's Elbow: Tattoos on Writers, Writers on Tattoos (Warner Books). Her first novel, Little Beauties, was published by Simon & Schuster in September 2005. Check her out at blueflowerarts.com or kimaddonizio.com. Tickets can be purchased at The Book Seller in Grass Valley, Cherry Records in Auburn and at the door for $10 general, seniors and students, and $2 for those under 18, refreshments included. The show will be in the Main Theater at the Center for the Arts, 314 W. Main St., Grass Valley, CA. Info: 530-432-8196 or 530-274-8384.

•••Saturday (1/20), 7:30 PM: "Raíces Latinas" (Latin Roots): Los Escritores del Nuevo Sol presents Adrián Arias, a Spanish-language poet from San Francisco’s Mission Cultural Center, who is also a graphic artist. More on him at: http://adrian-arias.blogspot.com. Joining Adrián as MC and co-reader will be our member Jim Michael. Cost is $5 or as can be afforded; no one turned away for lack of $. Info: Graciela at 916-456-5323; more info at the website: www.escritoresdelnuevosol.com. [NOTE: Sacramento Poetry Center's Poetry Now listed this reading for Friday, Jan. 19; then the reader called to say he would have to shift it to Saturday. Hence some confusion. The reading is Saturday.]

•••Also Saturday, 11:30 AM to 3:30 PM: Artists Embassy International presents Confluence of the Arts: Poetry Reading, Art Show, Dance Performance with Notable Poets, Laureates, Dancing Poetry Festival Grand Prize Winners, Poetic Dance, Poetic/Visual Art, refreshments. The Alameda Historical & Art Museum, 2324 Alameda Ave., Alameda, CA. Info: 510-235-0361 or naticaaei@aol.com. (This event is not to be confused with their annual Dancing Poetry Contest, which is held each Fall.)

•••Also Saturday, 2-4 PM: The Central California Art Association & Mistlin Art Gallery announces a poetry reading at the gallery, 1015 J St., downtown Modesto. This reading will feature Mark Nicole Johnson, author of 3x3, Salvatore Salerno, author of Sunleaf, and Gordon Preston, author of Violins. Reception following. The public is welcome.

•••Also Sat., 7-9 PM: Underground Poetry Series at Underground Books, 2814 35th St. (35th & Broadway), Sac. Open mic; $3.

•••Sunday (1/21), 12-2 PM: Sacramentans Chip Spann and Elizabeth Robinson will be reading at Vesuvio in San Francisco, 255 Columbus Ave. at Jack Kerouac Alley (between Broadway and Pacific), San Francisco, CA 94133. Vesuvio, world-renowned saloon (across from City Lights Bookstore) in San Francisco’s North Beach, remains a historical monument to jazz, poetry, art and the good life of the Beat Generation. Chip and Elizabeth say: Each year we gather at Vesuvio to rattle our raucous souls, scream against the injustices and celebrate the joy of being alive. Join in the fun with business people, foreign visitors, healers, philosophers, mythologists, cab drivers, wise elders, off duty exotic dancers and bon vivants. Info: www.vesuvio.com, (916) 446-6160, chipspann@sbcglobal.net or elizabethmyth@sbcglobal.net.

•••Also Sunday: Molly Fisk's January's Boot Camp begins on Sunday (1/21) and runs through Friday, 1/26. You can join the regular camp and write new poems, or you can work on revisions by yourself (same format, same price). This is a great time of year to look at older poems and see what they might need to be presentable. If you don't know about Poetry Boot Camp, here's where you can find out: http://www.poetrybootcamp.com. It's a six-day workshop conducted via e-mail. Molly says it's enormously productive, and tons of fun.

_______________________

More about "found poems". JoAnn Anglin writes: You know all that sleazy spam we all get in our emails? Well sometimes, I have noticed, they contain odd phrase groupings designed, I realized, to bypass the spam filters. They are usually clustered excerpts of a few words from sources as disparate as Jane Austin and Consumer Reports. I’ve saved some, as I found the odd juxtapositions kind of tantalizing, as if I could somehow make poems from them, were I clever enough. Well, I went through this ‘junk mail,’ winnowing some word clusters, and here is my effort:

OBLIGED REVELATIONS
—JoAnn Anglin, Sacramento

I'll tell them that, at a future period,
before we have done any harm, he was
caught in the very act, in a mixture of confidential jest and earnest
he asked me what I would take in a close deerskin
I packed up such of my composure
Though that’s not saying much:
I am forced to confess now,
I cannot always mean what you say

the old lady looked
setting at her window, with an apologetic air
and was quite herself

It was in vain to take refuge, a mouldy sort of establishment,
nevertheless restored the heart than anything else
It was curious and interesting To think that it should come to this,
when I might have known it was to die tomorrow

Surrounded by other living beings,
so intent upon his own had laid about him with a heavy hand -
her chance to come demolish its atmosphere

Her hand passed softly before my lips
an indication of a wish, what I want you to be

Did you ever breed for the kindest and best,
extinguished and dreadfully young
But for very shame and the having no escape
removed as salvage

______________________

Thanks, JoAnn! Then again, as David Humphreys points out, all poems are "found" poems...

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com 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 Machine

WHALE SONGS
—Miroslav Holub

At two o'clock in the morning
I hear my mitral valve
from the depth of the dim, blood-filled tunnel
which is me. Cellular receptors
fit with a metallic click and the locks are me.
From some symphonic distance
there sounds the song of the whales,
and it contains me.

In some black castle
Sleeping Beauty has pricked herself on a thorn,
which is me. The clock has stopped
—in our house clocks stop any moment
because she pricks herself any moment,
on a tiny crock,
on a word,
on a milk tooth,
on a toy that fell into the gutter—
and so there's a still life, nature morte,
with me in the genetic background.

A paper kite stiffens in the air,
however, Einstein says, Time is always going, but never gone,
however, my mother says, ten years after her death,
Oh yes, oh yes,
and a clock starts again,
the invisible passes through the room like a ball of lightning,
Sleeping Beauty lays eggs full of little spiders,
the whales re-enter the tunnel

and I start again
being the machine
for the production
of myself.

_______________________

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com 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.)

Sit Still & Let Your Heart Go Wild

AWAY
—Kate Wells, Placerville

At the Japanese garden
catch sight of an 8-pound turtle.
Sit still and let your heart go wild.

At the pond, mother and son
fall into your ear.
Let your heart mourn the absence of one.

Now the mother holds hands
with her pink-flowered daughter.
Let loneliness remind you of who are not here.

_______________________

CROSS CREEK
—Kate Wells

We gather today in the presence
of gold-tipped aspen groves,
kinetic sky.

My brother stands on solid Rocky Mountain granite,
holds hands with his bride
and speaks his reasons—

She is his blue flower in the snow
where no flower should grow.

________________________

CUSP
—Kate Wells

Along Route 16
field mice stalked on cattails.
Hawk with a hair trigger

sings down the wind.
Soon the sky cracks
rain and snow.

Hawk shoulders out the storm
on the telephone pole,
alone in the rain and snow.

_______________________

Thanks, Kate! Watch for a rattlechap from Red Fox Underground Poet Kate Wells next Fall.

Meanwhile our "found" poetry-a-thon continues, this one from Sacramento Poet Jane Blue. She writes: This one ends with the things found in my purse. The first list just popped out of my head with the beginning: "I feel...."

THE MAMMOGRAM
—Jane Blue, Sacramento

I sit with my clothes in my lap and wait,
my shirt and my bra and my raincoat.
I stand and the gown gapes open, displaying
my knuckled spine; my breasts uncovered
get flattened in a machine. I dress and become
myself again. Outside it is spring. I feel
plastic, I feel green, I feel daffodillian, arcane.
I feel op-art, disco-crazy, spinning
in the strobe lights of a thunderstorm, the trees
leafing chartreuse from their limbs. I feel
sprouty, orchidian, reptilian, turtle-like,
my backpack soaked, I empty it out: a hat,
gloves, umbrella, camera, I feel like
a Victorian adventuress, spilling notebooks,
pens, museum admissions, pills, phone,
acupressure wrist-strap folded in a smudged
transparent box in case of nausea, durable
power of attorney, photographs of children,
bus tickets, bus schedules, business cards,
a parroty-colored needlepoint coin purse
from Chiapas full of nickels and dimes;
I feel like singing a love ballad in a Paris cafe.

_______________________

Thanks, Jane. A free copy of Pearl Stein Selinsky's new rattlechap, Vic & Me, will be coming to Jane and to all those other poets who are brave enough to send in "found" poems before next Tuesday (1/16) at midnight. Found poems are usually a kind of list poem that's generated from unlikely sources such as newspaper articles, catalogs, junk mail—any collection of words that seems to have elements that strike you as somehow poetic, either re-arranged or just as they are. Or it might be something less commercial: a note you found on the ground, or the juxtaposition of two graphitti, or some inadvertant slip of the tongue. Send it/them to kathykieth@hotmail.com or POBx 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726, and see yesterday's (and tomorrow's!) posts for more examples.

Calendar note: There will be no Sacramento Poetry Center reading this Monday night (1/15), due to the Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday.

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com 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.)

Found Poems, Part Two

TAKE NUTRITION ACTION
—Marie Riepenhoff-Talty, Sacramento

Discover more super foods for better health—
At least one will surprise you!

A nutritional All-Star—
Sweet Potatoes!

They’re sweeter and firmer—
Grape Tomatoes!

Little or no artery-clogging fat—
Skim Milk!

Rich in fiber and antioxidants—
Blueberries!

Omega-3 fats and fewer heart attacks—
Wild salmon!

Fiber, magnesium, vitamins E, B-6, copper, zinc—
Brown rice!

Healthy greens; carotenoids, folate, potassium—
Kale, spinach and broccoli rabe!

Enriched with extra moisture and sweetness—
You are surprised, antioxidized; a power house!

"found" poem culled from the Nutrition Action Newsletter

_______________________

Thanks, Marie! A free copy of Pearl Stein Selinsky's new rattlechap, Vic & Me, will be winging its way to Marie and to all those other poets who are brave enough to send in "found" poems before next Tuesday (1/16) at midnight. Found poems are usually a kind of list poem that's generated from unlikely sources such as newspaper articles, catalogs, junk mail—any collection of words that seems to have elements that strike you as somehow poetic, either re-arranged or just as they are. Or it might be something less commercial: a note you found on the ground, or the juxtaposition of two graphitti, or some inadvertant slip of the tongue. Send it/them to kathykieth@hotmail.com or POBx 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726, and see yesterday's (and tomorrow's!) posts for more examples.


This weekend:

•••Today (Friday, 1/12): JACK LONDON'S BIRTHDAY. Jack London lived in Oakland and Alameda in the Bay Area and became world-famous. He was a student at UC Berkeley, attended Oakland High, and also attended school in Alameda. Bring your own style of poems (and your cameras) to commemorate yourself celebrating his birthday, Jan 12, by visiting the site of Jack London's birthplace, which is marked by a plaque, at Third and Brannan, in San Francisco, to read poems, place flowers and take photos. This continues a tradition for poets for more than 15 years, begun by the Bay Area Poets Coalition (BAPC). The Alameda Island Poets and others have been carrying on this tradition, and have been joined in this celebration through the years by the Not-Yet-Dead-Poets Society, Artists Embassy International, Poets of the Vineyard members, and other groups, Creative Writing classes and educators. All are welcome to join the poets at the San Francisco site, Jan 12, 10-11AM, and also to attend the FREE afternoon birthday party ( with birthday cake) and poetry reading PLUS OPEN READING at the Alameda Historical Museum, 1:30-3:00 PM, 2324 Alameda Ave., Alameda. [Happy Birthday, Jack!]

•••Sat. (1/13), 3-5 PM: Patricity's In Spirit & Truth Series at 61 Yuence Smoked BBQ & Grill, 9657 Folsom Blvd. (off Bradshaw). Features plus open mic. Free. Info: 916-361-2014.

•••Sunday (1/14), 2:30-4:30 PM: Poets on the Ridge Poetry Reading (Open Mic) at Juice & Java, 7067 Skyway, Paradise, CA. Info: 530-872-9633.

•••Sunday's fundraiser for frank andrick has been postponed until March. The outpouring of support for frank has been overwhelming. Thank you to all who have given in an effort to get him through his health care crisis. We'll follow-up with a NEW date and location when it’s been determined. For those who'd like to check in on frank and see how he's doing, you can contact him at fandrickfabpub@hotmail.com.

_______________________

More found poems. This first one is, as I told Patricia, bittersweet, coming from, as it does, someone she is very close to:

TWO DAYS OF LISTENING IN DEMENTIA-LAND
—Patricia Wellingham-Jones, Tehama

I woke up in the middle of the night and I was there.
Figured I must have been here before
because all of me was there now.
Where else would I be?
None of my pockets were rifled
and my hands were in the right place
so I guess it’s OK.

Have you noticed I’ve been a little bit screwy
in the last two weeks?
Everything is mixed up at one end;
nothing else happens.
How much problem would it be
to put me on a sideline?

There’s a moratorium on too much paperwork.
I’m on the irreparable fix-up list.
I’ll only deal with a blood relative, not
the four who spring up on the cow path.
How are you going to get the bear
and the deer out of here?

You’re strong! For a girl over twenty-one,
you’re powerful!
I’m looking for my top card
but I can’t find my wife.
Any hope of getting out of here?
There’ll be no tickle this evening.

_______________________

ADVENTURING THROUGH SUNSET
—Taylor Graham, Somerset

There was a time when I couldn’t see
the road ahead, explore white sand beaches,
marvel at world-famous volcanic landscapes.
In a dramatic re-do without the drama,
I was there in the snow, one crystallizing
moment brilliantly simple. Unfiltered
sunlight. Everything fresher, intense
fragrance with less mouth-pucker.
Backcountry trails like beacons
through a forest of fir, icicled creeks,
a featherweight avalanche from above
free-rappelling into a lost world
just as the final glimpse of sun sinks
into the ocean. Wide awake, stock up
on sparklers. Sandhill cranes, snow geese
and tundra swans darker in cool weather,
surrounded by a profusion of blooms.
Play with illusion. Collect rainwater.
What if the best day of your life
removed the formality, simplified spaces,
a unified feel and an easy flow
opening the door to nature. Borrow light
from other places. I slip into the cold
water and watch the stars slowly wheel.

_______________________

Thanks, TG!

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com 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.)

New Eyes for Old Things

COUPON MADNESS SIDE BY SIDE
—"found" poem by Margaret Ellis Hill, Wilton

Cold weather ensembles: Magic stud
setting tool: flat fold colander: clever clasps.
The Bruce Lee Kung Fu legend DVD's: musical
CDs for babies: hummingbird calendars.

Austrian crystal stretch bracelets: Insta dip:
Tiny peanut butter candies: gas pump replicas.
Skin cremes: old Cowboy movies: Unisex down
slippers: 7 in 1 Casino games palm player.

Genuine fleece running horses blanket: spinning
shower brush: deviled egg holder: door draft guards.
Healing Powers of garlic, vinegar and oil: tractor clock:
Elvis magnets: advanced sexual techniques video.

The telescopic multipurpose duster: suede cases
for thirty-six credit cards: gorilla tape: penny collection.
Wolf portraits: die cast scale model Shelby cars:
musical teapots: enzymatic drain cleaner.

The Vidalia chop wizard: toilet cleaning systems:
wrist blood pressure taker: set of colorized quarters.
CDs of most loved hymns: Betty Boop playing cards:
Church chuckles: ceramic hurricane candle holders.

A motorized coin bank: cat pins with genuine stone eyes:
Mouse salt and pepper shakers: military wall clocks.
Book of Uncommon cures: scratch remover:
waterfall soap savers: lingerie mesh bags.

Long handled angled scissors: large print dictionary:
LED lit, magnifying eyebrow tweezers: grease bullets—
each item for $4.99, four month installments, plus
the million dollar prize winning ticket bonus,

guaranteed.

_______________________

Ah, what a panoply of Things we live with. Thanks, Peggy! There's poetry all around us! Use new eyes, the way Katy Brown suggested in the most recent issue of Rattlesnake Review. You can see what a "found" poem is from Peggy's great example; it's usually a kind of list poem that's generated from unlikely sources such as newspaper articles, catalogs, junk mail—any collection of words that seems to have elements that strike you as somehow poetic, either re-arranged or just as they are. Or it might be something less commercial: a note you found on the ground, or the juxtaposition of two graphitti, or some inadvertant slip of the tongue...

Here's a challenge: send me a found poem by midnight next Tuesday (1/16), and I'll post it and send you a free copy of Pearl Stein Selinsky's new rattlechap, Vic & Me (or other Snake book, if you prefer). Send it/them to kathykieth@hotmail.com or POBx 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. Obviously, the definition of what a "found" poem is is pretty loose, and I'm not picky. Just look at this wordy world around you and see what you can come up with, see what seems to string together for you in an interesting way.


Saturday benefit reading postponed:

Richard Hansen writes: The Jan. 14 fundraiser for frank andrick has been postponed until March. The outpouring of support for frank has been overwhelming. Thank you to all who have given in an effort to get him through his health care crisis. As Edie Lambert indicated in the letter we sent out, we'd planned a poetry reading this Sunday to help "form a safety net for Frank." Unfortunately, we have to postpone that event until sometime in March. We'll follow-up with a NEW date and location when it’s been determined. For those who'd like to check in on frank and see how he's doing, you can contact him at fandrickfabpub@hotmail.com


Contests coming up:

•••New Meridian Contest for Prose Poems! Short-shorts and prose poems accepted. The winning entry will be printed on a 4X6" postcard which will be given out at the AWP 2007 Conference (http://www.awpwriter.org/conference/2007awpconf.php) to promote Meridian. The postcard will also be included with the May 2007 issue of Meridian. The winner will receive a $100 prize and 100 stamped postcards so you can send copies to all your friends, acquaintances, uneasy allies, etc. This is a great opportunity to get your writing noticed in a unique way. The entry has to fit on a postcard. Visual appeal is a plus. You may send either word processor/text files, or—if you're artistically inclined—an Adobe PDF mockup of what your postcard might look like. Entry fee is $3. Deadline is midnight EST on Jan. 31, 2007. Entry is online only. To enter, visit: http://readmeridian.org/?page=pppp

•••Burning Bush Poetry Prize 2007 honors work that inspires others to work for social and economic justice. First Prize: $200 and online publication in In Our Own Words. Send 3 poems, SASE, and $10 reading fee by 6/1/07 to: Burning Bush Publications, P.O. Box 4658, Santa Rosa, CA 95402, www.bbbooks.com

________________________

Taylor Graham writes:

Your odes to Tower and the listening booths got me thinking back. I couldn't even remember the name of my first music store. And then, as if by magic, it popped into my head. Isn't the mind an amazing thing?

CASSELL’S MUSIC
—Taylor Graham, Somerset

In my bedroom dark, I’d tune
the radio dial till all the angels
were singing in Italian.
How I coveted those voices grooved
in vinyl—imagined in my hand
a boxed set with libretto, library-
card to foreign languages of love
and tragedy.

The music store an hour drive away,
one Saturday morning at Cassell’s—
without a map of Egypt, the poor
Paris of La Bohème, fairyland
of Zauberflüte (yes, angels sang
sometimes in German), Sevilla
in French—I had my choice
to make.

I never could buy so many silver
tongues. That Saturday, just
one.

_______________________

Thanks, TG! The new year seems to have triggered some wistfulness in all of us:

UNINHABITED
—Ellaraine Lockie, Sunnyvale

The one-room schoolhouse
is weathered by a hundred years
on the High Plains
Emptied of my mother, aunts, uncles
and the bell in the tower
that tolled their welcome
to the middle of nowhere

I bring my daughter here
for an optical history lesson
Me to summon ancestor stories
that have been silenced by the din
of decades in cities

She forges in front of me
ever anxious to embrace anything abandoned
And I'm struck dumb by the assault
of some instinct as old and tongue-tied
as those stories

At the doorframe she hears the hiss
before the rattle that roots her
to the cactus-covered earth
As the snake slithers away
And elementary education continues
two generations after it began
in the one-room schoolhouse

_______________________

Thanks, 'Rainy! Ellaraine Lockie has been attending workshops around the world and is having many great adventures which I hope she'll write about for the rest of us.

Everybody else remember: Go out and "find" me a poem by Tuesday!

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com 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.)

How Are the Mighty...

IN THANKS FOR THE MIGHTY TOWER
(In Memoriam of My Days as a Tower Records Employee, 2004-2006)
—Ann Wehrman, Sacramento

Thirty years ago,
tongue-tied and dazzled
I perched, afternoons, by the record store counter,
unmolested, unchallenged for hours,
listened to music,
wore out my welcome
while cashiers talked the talk,
wannabe musicians yawned through their day jobs,
rocker hangers-on sauntered by—
yet the business tolerated me
though I rarely bought.

Record stores then, basically, like today’s,
although we count time in pixels now,
rocker-cashiers juggle career plans
and 401K’s with parties and pot—

now I work at the mighty Tower,
stock shelves, run the reg,
try to be extra kind to those “just listening.”
I love this simple work
that lets me listen, take music deeply inside,
awakening passion, harmony,
that my feet might find destiny’s tracks,
despite eyes still blind, heart dark blue.

_______________________

Thanks, Ann! Tower was such a fixture in Sacramento, and eventually in other parts of the world, too. Anybody (besides Ann and me) remember the listening booths?


Rattle-read tonight:

•••Tonight (Weds., 1/10), Rattlesnake Press presents Pearl Stein Selinsky reading from her new rattlechap, Vic & Me, at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sac., 7:30 PM. Read-around follows; bring your own poems or somebody else's.


Some coming events you might want to take note of:

•••The venerable Berkeley Poet's Dinner/Contest (#81!): postmark deadline for entries is 1/17/07—just a week away!! Event date is 3/17/07. For complete rules and info, visit www.bayareapoetscoalition.org and click on the Poet's Dinner/Contest link. (Reminder: you must be present to win.)

•••A week from Saturday (1/20), 11:30 AM to 3:30 PM: Artists Embassy International presents Confluence of the Arts: Poetry Reading, Art Show, Dance Performance with Notable Poets, Laureates, Dancing Poetry Festival Grand Prize Winners, Poetic Dance, Poetic/Visual Art, refreshments. The Alameda Historical & Art Museum, 2324 Alameda Ave., Alameda, CA. Info: 510-235-0361 or naticaaei@aol.com. (This event is not to be confused with their annual Dancing Poetry Contest, which is held each Fall.)

•••A week from Sunday (1/21), 12-2 PM: Sacramentans Chip Spann and Elizabeth Robinson will be reading at Vesuvio in San Francisco, 255 Columbus Ave. at Jack Kerouac Alley (between Broadway and Pacific), San Francisco, CA 94133. Vesuvio, world-renowned saloon (across from City Lights Bookstore) in San Francisco’s North Beach, remains a historical monument to jazz, poetry, art and the good life of the Beat Generation. Chip and Elizabeth say: Each year we gather at Vesuvio to rattle our raucous souls, scream against the injustices and celebrate the joy of being alive. Join in the fun with business people, foreign visitors, healers, philosophers, mythologists, cab drivers, wise elders, off duty exotic dancers and bon vivants. Info: www.vesuvio.com, (916) 446-6160, chipspann@sbcglobal.net or elizabethmyth@sbcglobal.net.

_______________________

MR. NO NAME
—Ann Wehrman, Sacramento

Mr. No Name
No Name man to the world
has a name
went to school when young—
before life and the world took his name
before visions and limits
taught him to bark out loud

tonight cradles himself
in a cold, concrete corner
where I pass him nightly
walking home, way too late—
the night watchman
turns a blind eye

cold wind, hard ground
bad food, no love
paper coffee cup placed carefully by his head
greasy, ancient coat,
papers and rags cover his tiny, frail frame
gray beard, lusterless eyes still visible
eyes blink a shy greeting
as I walk by
through obsidian night

_______________________

ON EASY STREET
—Ann Wehrman, Sacramento

For just a buck,
I bought a thrift store pair of cords,
olive, leafy green
not the green of spring leaves
but sunburned, dried, autumn green,
with hints of brown if one squints,
corduroy worn softer than alpaca
or cashmere from a baby goat,
cords washed in another life in a wringer by hand
with Borateem by a wood fire,
then hung out on the line
frozen like a board in icy air—
now, they will keep me warm.

Their steel button at the waist,
grommeted right through the flap,
will hold forever,
but the zipper needs work—
torn out of its fly, it hangs loose like a cut lip
gaps like a tooth lost in a fight
after too much to drink,
or perhaps just loosening in aging gums,
no dental insurance to keep up appearances.

No matter—
they’ll mend,
I’ll cross-stitch the zipper back into place,
cinch my belt atop their generous hang
that gives me room to move, sit, and run,
roll up their too-long, men’s legs into cuffs,
giving my ancient cords
dignity, stability, a tenth life.

________________________

—Medusa

Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com 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.)