Buck Moons & Mystery Cats

 Coyote Mint
—Poetry and Photos by Taylor Graham,
Placerville, CA
—And then scroll down for
Form Fiddlers’ Friday, with poetry by
Nolcha Fox, Stephen Kingsnorth,

  Joyce Odam, Caschwa, 

and Claire J. Baker

MEDITATION ON COYOTE MINT   

All these rooted white stars—
countless on a single plant exploding
out of earth at the drop-
off edge, an entire watershed below
diminishing to far horizon
as snowmelt goes eroding into ocean. 


The extraordinary ordinariness
of coyote mint on this granite- and lava-
made mountain that echoes
coyote in your dreams, if you should
stay and camp, thinking
the world will be the same at dawning.

 

 

 

 

OPENING MY EYES       

It’s the full Buck Moon that wakes me
like a headlight thru the bedroom window
facing SSW. It’s a sliver moon but
oh so bright, like the headlight of a car
almost submerged in water. Flood waters
are on the news, in the hill country.
This is ridge and canyon country
where it isn’t raining, but the full moon
is almost drowned in ridgetop
and it’s hours before dawn.
I meant to write about ferns but
this full sliver moon takes precedence,
so brilliant, so intense, so intent on waking
me to all the marvels of today. 

 

 

 

GETTING HIGH

If it’s a holiday, I need to escape—
load my dog in the car, drive the almost
deserted 2-lane below cliffs, where catalpa
grows wild along the shoulder, and grackles
might merge with their shadows, the sun
beating down so 4th-of-July hot on bee boxes
calling the black bear to their honey....
But already we’re past all that.
We’re headed upcountry, the best way
I know to get high.

 

 

 

 

MATT’S WORLD

Is vibrant color everything?
Finger-paint smeared red with sky-blue
on butter-yellow, till the black-
and-white beyond-absurd gets lost

in green-orange labyrinths. Purple
is! Vibrant color. Everything
you can make from what Teacher calls
the Secondary Colors—look,

she points to the big Color Wheel.
Dull classroom walls repeat: Yes, it
is vibrant! Color everything!
As if that explains what Matt sees—

what the world around calls mishmash—
each aqua-mango-sunset swirl
and spiral-dancing on the page
is vibrant color. Everything.

 

 

 

 

FIELD MOSAIC
 
Looking down on the ground, I could describe a giant’s mosaic, each tessera cut and polished by eons of tectonic art, uplift and subsidence, the careful detailing of erosion. Wind and water. Each piece colored by its flora, its palette of mosses and lichens. So much meaning here, if I knew more geology and biology, if I could get high enough to look down on the whole design.

It might sound absurd—
walk the land, marvel and
sometimes that’s enough.

__________________

AGATHA THE BOOKSTORE CAT

loved mysteries, named as she was
for the beloved writer of crime.
She was pleased to host our poetry group
in her bookstore once a month.
She loved to find clues, and most of our
poets were ladies who carried purses.
As we read our verses around the book-
store table, Agatha was choosing a purse—
one roomy enough for a dignified
and well-fed orange tabby. Each month
it would be a different purse. Who knows
what mysteries Agatha was composing.
She never chose mine—I came
with a daypack full of books and papers.
Not Agatha the mystery cat’s style.

 

 

 

Otis

 

Today’s LittleNip:

DARNED DOG-TOY
—Taylor Graham
    
Single sock stuffed with target toy
for terrific tugs by obsessed Otis,
squeaker salvaged, nice-knit to
destroyed doggy-doodad plush as prey.
Wolf-wild toss & tumble
flap & flail till he’s tuckered-out,
slips to sleep like any angel.

______________________

It’s a July morning in the Sierra Foothills of California, and Taylor Graham is waking us up with fine poetry and photos—and we thank her for that. She’s been with us here in the Kitchen for the full 20 years we've been cooking, and our thanks to her for sharing her fine work all that time.

TG is fond of forms and always blesses us with some of those; this week she has sent us a Quatern that is also a Response Poem to our Tuesday Seed of the Week, Beyond Absurd (“Matt's World?); a Haibun (“Field Mosaic”); a Word-Can Poem (“Getting High”); a Response Poem to Katy Brown’s recent "Infinities" (7/9/25, https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/search?q=katy+brown&max-results=20&by-date=true/) (“Meditation on Coyote Mint”); some Alliteration (“Darned Dog-Toy”); and a Response to Katy Brown’s "The Art of Ambush" (see link above) (“Agatha the Bookstore Cat”).

In El Dorado County poetry, Poetry in Motion will meet in Placerville this coming Monday, 7/21, 10:30am. And El Dorado County’s regular workshops are listed on Medusa’s calendar (if you scroll down on http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html/). For more news about such events and about EDC poetry—past (photos!) and future—see Taylor Graham’s Western Slope El Dorado Poetry on Facebook at www.facebook.com/ElDoradoCountyPoetry/. Or see Lara Gularte’s Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/groups/382234029968077/. And you can always click on Medusa's UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS (http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html). Poetry is Gold in El Dorado County!  
 
And now it’s time for…     

 
FORM FIDDLERS’ FRIDAY!  

 

It’s time for more contributions from Form Fiddlers, in addition to those sent to us by Taylor Graham! Each Friday, there will be poems posted here from our readers using forms—either ones which were sent to Medusa during the previous week, or whatever else floats through the Kitchen and the perpetually stoned mind of Medusa. If these instructions are vague, it's because they're meant to be. Just fiddle around with some challenges—  Whaddaya got to lose… ? If you send ‘em, I’ll post ‘em! (See Medusa’s Form Finder at the end of this post for resources and for links to poetry terms used in today’s post.)                                                                                  

Check out our recently-refurbed page at the top of Medusa’s Kitchen called, “FORMS! OMG!!!” which expresses some of my (take ‘em or leave 'em) opinions about the use of forms in poetry writing, as well as listing some more resources to help you navigate through Form Quicksand and other ways of poetry. Got any more resources to add to our list? Send them to kathykieth@hotmail.com for the benefit of all man/woman/poetkind!

* * *

 

 

 Last Week’s Ekphrastic Photo

Poets who sent responses to last week’s Ekphrastic photo were Nolcha Fox, and Stephen Kingsnorth:


FIXING BROKEN THINGS
—Nolcha Fox, Buffalo, WY

How often I puzzle how to put things back together,
how to make the splinters and mismatched edges
and chunks of time hold until the next morning.
Sometimes new screws and bolts and bungee cords
keep the unkeepable together long enough
to make it to the next repair shop.
Sometimes duct tape and bandages stop
leaking eyes and hearts long enough
to make it to the next poor choice.
Sometimes I can jumpstart a stalled conversation.
Sometimes I can’t find anything in my toolkit
to fix what’s broken: cancer, heart attacks, death.
Sometimes I have to turn the open sign to closed,
lock the door, and try again tomorrow.

* * *

CAPE ABILITY
—Stephen Kingsnorth, Coedpoeth, Wrexham, Wales

How far from Nietzsche’s Űbermensch
to gloss of Hollywood et al,
and even now, White House display,
delusions, yet more fantasy.
A hero or as fascist cast,
defeat of evil, or its source,
in charity or arrogance,
that voice of underdog displaced.

Save native bloodlines on the land
Americans are immigrants,
as he, from distant planet, comes.
Near century, copyright wars,
heraldic shield upon his chest,
then Clark, the vigilante, born.
Like record, old, seventy eight,
the first big-budget movie framed.

His pose is not of relaxed poise
for in this place is not much space;
so what confronts me, interface—
‘Here I am’ or ‘Job complete’?
Thrust chest, crossed arms seem satisfied
that all lies, under their control;
are these tactics we would embrace
as superhumans overcome?

Here’s puppet stage where strings are pulled,
solutions on the battleground
achieved by intervening force,
incarnate muscle capable.
I would that wicked dominate
until earthlings cooperate,
for good is borne of freedom’s choice,
true healing known through grace alone.

It’s grief and pain reveal love’s cost,
its strength, length, light, known in the dark;
post pantheon of classical,
are gods, seers, prophets more this type?
Now superheroes spread their wings—
or other parts unique to them—
my plea, remain their comic strips;
so please bring on the Kryptonite.

If we’re to learn from our mistakes
then recognise, prerequisite;
it’s losers pose no question marks,
self-justified in ignorance.

* * *

Here is a Sonnet from Joyce Odam in the form of the Alfred Dorn Sonnet (https://classicalpoets.org/2022/01/obsession-an-alfred-dorn-sonnet-and-other-poetry-by-tamara-beryl-latham/ AND/OR https://www.poetrymagnumopus.com/topic/1056-the-alfred-dorn-sonnet/):

 

 

 
THEIR PERFECT LOVE
—Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA

They love each other. Notice how they pose:
two as one, perfection in their eyes.
They kiss in public, heedless of the stares.
She yields to him. His arm about her shows
his ownership. They are each other’s prize.
Poor and foolish? Neither of them cares.

Love conquers all, so how can they ignore
the truth of this? They’re trusting to the core.

They’ll revel with the highs and skip the lows.
They’d rather trust than forfeit. That’s their plan.
They bond the tighter to resist their foes
with no persuasion more compelling than
“You get the thorns with every perfect rose.”
But if love cannot break them, nothing can.
      

(prev. pub. in Poets’ Forum Magazine;
also Living in the West (Sr. Mag.), May 2013;
and in Medusa’s Kitchen, 6/1/11)


* * *

Here are a couple of First Letter Acrostics from Carl Schwartz (Caschwa):

 

 

 

COVER IT WITH CHEESE
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA

Elder
Gentile
Gentlemen
Purchase
Ladies
And
Nobody
Talks
Pubic
Atrocities
Rarely
Matter
Ergo
Society
Accepts
Naughty

* * *

THE ART OF MIGRATION
—Caschwa

Criminal
Attorneys
On
Retainer
Back
Up
Special
Tourists

* * *

Carl's Haiku with an observation about history:

 

 

 

SIGN OF THE TIMES
—Caschwa

Depression Era
parents bought family one-
ply toilet tissue

* * *

The Pantoum is such a lovely form, and Claire Baker has sent us one (with
variations) for our closing:

 

 

 
FANTASY, IN TIME OF WAR
    with compassion for Ukraine
—Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA

When fantasy’s fireflies return
and free up visions of survival,
nights caress like woolen blankets.
Not held in Mason jars, they glow

in fantasies freed for facing war.
When Russia’s musty missiles miss,
fireflies glow past Mason jars
to throb within each inner wrist—

faster when Russian weapons miss.
While anchored lightly, fireflies
pulsing within each inner wrist
spark scenes of wonderlands.

When warmly pulsing, fireflies
cancel fear, reflecting back
to wonderlands remembered dearly,
despite a despot’s greedy war.

Reflected glow-worms cancel fear,
spur wonder nights in dark arenas.
May curses damn a greedy despot,
fireflies hold as calm as stars

in dark arenas of wondrous nights.
Holding strong through heartless war
may Ukraine hold calm as stars
when fantasy’s fireflies return.

__________________

Many thanks to today’s writers for their lively contributions! Wouldn’t you like to join them? All you have to do is send poetry—forms or not—and/or photos and artwork to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post work from all over the world, including that which was previously-published. Just remember: the snakes of Medusa are always hungry!

__________________

TRIPLE-F CHALLENGES! 

 

See what you can make of these challenges, and send your results to kathykieth@hotmail.com/. (No deadline.) Respond to Joyce Odam’s Alfred Down Sonnet with one of your own, about love lost or anything else:

•••Sonnet, Alfred Dorn: https://classicalpoets.org/2022/01/obsession-an-alfred-dorn-sonnet-and-other-poetry-by-tamara-beryl-latham/ AND/OR https://www.poetrymagnumopus.com/topic/1056-the-alfred-dorn-sonnet 

 

•••AND/OR swim freestyle! Send us a form poem of any ilk—your choice, and there are plenty to choose from at Medusa's FORMS! OMG!!! (http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/medusa-muses.html/):

•••Freestyle: choose your own form

•••See also the bottom of this post for another challenge, this one an Ekphrastic one.

•••And don’t forget each Tuesday Seed of the Week! This week it’s “The Lingering Scent of Roses”.

____________________

MEDUSA’S FORM FINDER: Links to poetry terms mentioned today:

•••Acrostic Poem types: https://studybay.com/blog/how-to-write-an-acrostic-poem

•••Alliteration: https://www.grammarly.com/blog/literary-devices/alliteration
•••Ekphrastic Poem: notesofoak.com/discover-literature/ekphrastic-poetry
•••Freestyle: choose your own form at Medusa's FORMS! OMG!!! (http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/medusa-muses.html/)

•••Haibun: www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/haibun-poems-poetic-form
•••Haiku: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/haiku-or-hokku AND/OR www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/haiku/haiku.html

•••Pantoum: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/pantoum.html AND/OR https://poets.org/glossary/pantoum

•••Quatern: www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wipquatern.html AND/OR www.masterclass.com/articles/how-to-write-a-quatern#what-is-a-quatern
•••Response Poem: creativetalentsunleashed.com/2015/11/18/writing-tip-response-poems
•••Sonnet, Alfred Dorn: https://classicalpoets.org/2022/01/obsession-an-alfred-dorn-sonnet-and-other-poetry-by-tamara-beryl-latham/ AND/OR https://www.poetrymagnumopus.com/topic/1056-the-alfred-dorn-sonnet
•••Tuesday Seed of the Week: a prompt listed in Medusa’s Kitchen every Tuesday; poems may be any shape or size, form or no form. No deadlines; past ones are listed at http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/calliopes-closet.html/. Send results to kathykieth#hotmail.com/.
•••Word-Can Poem: putting random words on slips of paper into a can, then drawing out a few and making a poem out of them

__________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

 

Today's Ekphrastic Challenge!

 
 Make what you can of today's
picture, and send your poetic results to
kathykieth@hotmail.com/. (No deadline.)

* * *

—Artwork Courtesy of Public Domain

 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For info about
future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
 during the week.

Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.

Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.

Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)

Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!

 

Those sneaky mystery cats~!

 

 

Shakin' a Leg

  Fork in the Wood
—Poetry and Visuals by Smith,
Cleveland, OH

 

 

Full fecund foliage
as deep as eye can see
new springing new
bigger faster
more
endless glow-green sleaves
in varied planes
size
shapes
doing their mambo
and pop-o
branches bounce beating sun
weave in wandering wind
my eyes wondering
is this that that that
could be filled

light dances
I shakes a leg

 

 

 

 Look Both Ways

We crawl from sea
to see what's to eat
on four finny fins
and unfurry feet
thus we begin
our race up and down
the give-it-to-me's
and territorial klowns
their faux fake knives
unfunny lives
and icy imported wives

O yes we doo doo

The sun shines on you
but it's not your sun
moon may follow you home
but it's not yours to own
dawn and dusk
undimmed by diminish
clockwork on
doubled edged in need

 

 

 

 POV

You check in
you're checked out
you check out

Karmalot roundabout

 

 

 

Merchandise

If I were going to eat
life on the beach
it would be a peach

but for life as it is
gimme a gin fizz

 

 

 

 Dark Web

I admit
I am my rock
I am my hill
but you society
you are my mountain
my hell
my punishment
my goad
my glory
I'm sorry
you're such a sorry mess
you cheat
you steal
you lie
you look in the mirror
see self dissembled
yet crow like banty rooster
over what's undone
there is hope
but I am not hopeful
in spite of my hope
football pulled from kick
in mickey mockery
a la mode

 

 

 

 Timetech

Truth is
not only do you have to pay rent
eventually you are rent

 

 

 

 Ragged Road

How do we get there
when it's always here?

Then and when become how
if it's always now?

Sally goes round the roses
only if they growzes

Where in now infinity
is future past be?

I think I see

In knead of seed
old olly olly oxen freed

Life is what we bleed

 

 

 

 Drive

More I think
less I know
on my way to happy

 

 

 

 3 Sisters

Today’s LittleNip:

I learn by doing things wrong
I do a lot of things wrong
I must be very wise

—Smith

__________________

Steven B. is back with us today for his 116th post in the Kitchen, kickin’ up his heels with fine poetry and art and a lively new puppy! Thanks for #116, Steven, for trusting us with your work these years, and for stopping by on your way to happy~

__________________

—Medusa 

 

 

 

 

Stone Buddha

 —Photo by Smith

 

 

















 

 

 

 

 

 

A reminder that
Dane Cervine and Adela Najarro
will read at Poetry in Davis
tonight, 4pm.
For info about this and other
future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
 during the week.

Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.

Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.

Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)

Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!

 

Gimme a gin fizz~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chasing the Liminal

 —Poetry by Fay L. Loomis, Kerhonkson, New York
—Public Domain Photos 

LIMINAL
Homage to The Book of Dreams, Nina George
(Crown, 2019)

in between
neither here nor there

    •    asleep . . . awake
    •    conscious . . . unconscious
    •    birth . . . death
    •    labyrinth . . . straight line
    •    dream, coma, déjà vu, insanity, little death
    •    memory . . . amnesia
    •    androgynous
    •    previous . . . next
    •    tug-of-war, blind man’s bluff
    •    light . . . dark
    •    heaven . . . hell
    •    begin . . . end
    •    costume, mask
    •    yes . . . no
    •    window, mirror, lens

poet friend said liminal overused
yet I remain intrigued by otherness

an archive of myself

 

 

 

 

WHO IS JOSEPH BELLOWS?

TO: Joseph

FROM: MSABM (The Museum Staff Against
Bellows’ Messes)

stinky pinky two-by-four
couldn’t get through the museum door
because of all the junk on the floor


TO: Joseph

FROM:  MSABM (You know who we are.)

the goops* have no manners
they throw their bananners
on anyone’s spot
but their own

*MSABM is highly suspicious that Joseph might be
related to the goops


TO: Joseph

FROM: MSABM (You certainly know who we are.)

the three little pigs
all rolled into one
is Joseph Bellows
with his shirt undone

 

 

 

 

GOD’S POEM

In the beginning was the Word
And the Word was with God
And the Word was God (John 1:1)

God said, “Let us create a living Word”
And God created human beings
And the human beings were in the image of God

God scribed a line of joy
And added a contrapuntal note of sorrow
And the humans became a verse

Then God colored the humans
And rhymed and sounded them
And the beings repeated many stanzas of life

God said, “Our poem is not yet finished.”
And the humans continued to struggle, work the
    poem
Until they were at-oned with God

And God saw everything that he had made,
and, behold,
it was very good. (Genesis 1:31)

_____________________

Today’s LittleNip:

SWEET CRUSH
—Fay L. Loomis

Lyle Sweet

sweet Sweet
young Sweet
too sweet

no Sweet

_____________________

—Medusa, with thanks to Fay Loomis for today’s fine poetry!

 

 

 

 

For info about
future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
 during the week.

Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.

Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.

Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)

Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!

 

Down the primrose path. . .

Absurd and Lonely Prize

  First Stanza
—Poetry by Joyce Odam and Robin Gale Odam,
Sacramento, CA
—Visuals by Joyce Odam

 

 

THE ALBINO PEACOCK 

—Joyce Odam

At night,
beside the Fool,
the peacock strolls the grounds
and in the moonlight rounds
the courtyard pool—
a quite

absurd
and lonely prize—
white peacock of the King
the Fool leads on a string
for the Queen’s eyes.
He’d heard

the Queen
once say how she
pitied what the King kept
blinded—how she had wept:
it could not see
to preen.

                         
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 6/1/11) 

 

 

 

Without Shore

SESSIONS
—Joyce Odam

Oh world, I shall not be with you today—
today I shall be traveling inward
to myself,
homeless as a city . . .

I am not immune to love—love just
keeps being love—and I just keep
looking up the word, which is absurd.

I am lying in the sand with my Mother,
reading True Confession magazines.
It is summer and we are young,

and wherever I have been,
I have left me there,
wandering
the curio
shops,
touching things—
waiting for endings of seasons
and pretending I am not just a visitor . . .

A policeman
    mis-asking me why I am crying—
        because I-am-a-child-! I tell him,
               and run—run back to now.

 

 

 

Aminal

ASKANCE
—Robin Gale Odam

The tilt of humor, the mask of
curiosity, the worry of judgment—

the dubiously disapproving suspicion,
disdainfully oblique and skeptically askew—

show it all at once.

                                        
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 11/22/22; 5/14/24)

 

 

 

 Theater

AS IF IN VIENNA
—Joyce Odam

There we were in the land
of waltz—stoned on love,
and happy to the core—waltzing

to some old Vienna tune
we thought we heard. Laughing
and tipsy. A bit pathetic. A bit absurd.

We loved the music
that drifted in from the boardwalk.
The one-bulb ceiling light

burned and blurred
as we reeled together—
out into the fragrant night

full of dazed somnambulates
who did not know
we waltzed among them—entering

each dream—stealing their sadness.
We would need it later—think it ours.
Such a little while love had lasted.

                                      
(prev. pub. in Song of the San Joaquin, Spring 2006)

 

 

 

 A Very Intoxicating Liqueur

NO MORE DRUNKEN NIGHTS, MY LOVE
—Joyce Odam

You poured wine over my head, and I
poured wine over your head. Then we wept.

Now you come over the telephone with foolish
words, a bouquet of praises in your mouth.

What am I to believe? I have closed the door.
I have sealed the envelope.

I am an old woman now in a wooden chair.
I sit and think of nothing . . . I stare and stare . . .

                                                   
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 12/6/11)

 

 

 

 Dark Moon Night

FINALITIES
—Joyce Odam

Because we are done. At once. Sudden
and silent, not even time for a last no.
        .
A little bit mysterious. Even for us.
But that is how we surprise each other.
        .
Old quarrels are best. So well known
we can say them at the drop of a guard.
        .
Just now : Your splendid rage, causing
its reaction, your eyes like a sermon.
        .
I am no Amen. I go into the room at the
back of my mind and rock in the dark.
        .
Each night I kill a moth because it is frantic
in the lamp and attacking me in its blindness.
        .
Even when we try, we are unable to repair
what is valued and broken.
        .
Just now—this dangerous look between us.
No compromise.

                                              
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 12/20/16; 2/15/22)

 

 

 

 A Little Tenderness

FOOLISH THOUGHTS
—Joyce Odam

What is this feeling that comes over me?
I hear a dove and sense a loneliness.

A tiny sparrow makes me want to cry.
Oh, Fie! — That strange word.

How can a word come back like that
from nowhere?

Makes no sense to be so close to tears :
something as simple as a texture,

or a tone
of someone’s voice.

What do I miss this moody day
that overwhelms me so?


(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 4/5/16; 2/25/20) 

 

 

 

 Talisman

HEAVY
—Joyce Odam

Am I not the one with the heart made of lead,
eyes made of brass—hands without touch
through gloves of numb—am I not that one…?

I saw the peacock spread its fan,
and I wept for all women
vainer than seduction with its pretty ways :

how they preened back—in spite of
memory’s sweet haze. Never mind that :
I am the one without words enough to say

the deep yearn that lives
next to the leaden throb—the one
who pines away—who will foolishly sob.

                                                   
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 7/2/13)

 

 

 

 Just One Sip

TOASTING YOUR HAPPINESS
—Joyce Odam

In love again
so foolish in your second happiness
sitting close enough to touch
and laughing at every glance,
you bring your news to us,
your friends.

We pour the wine to toast you . . .

You do not notice our loveless eyes
our smiles that hurt
our words that come
like finished marriages
the way we touch each lifted glass
except our own.


(prev. pub. as Urban Voices That Matter broadside;
and in Medusa’s Kitchen, 7/2/13; 12/15/15)

 

 

 

 

Notes in Zen

STARLIGHT
—Robin Gale Odam

Tonight my shadow
wrote this poem—it was for
all of you, shadows of shadows,
cast across the floor in the dark.

I move carefully through the house,
avoid the windows, the starlight.
                     

(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 10/10/23) 

 

 

 

Eddie-Lou’s Dream

AN OLD ASPIRATION
—Joyce Odam

Hold me, the way a poem holds
words, the way shadow holds light,
the way anything lost is wanted.

Let nothing aspire beyond its being,
or better yet—aspire—as if
we are capable of love

that does not change,
that risks another’s love,
and thus creates a tragedy.

I have an old aspiration
anxious to repair its energy.
It lasts as long as I think about it.

What is this worth
that demands so much,
that is never paid in full,

that is like a debt
of something worthless
now, except for its experience?

How will we ever make good
on all our promises that were coerced,
or foolishly offered, becoming these weights?

                                        
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 9/3/13)

 

 

 

 Sleepwriting

Today’s LittleNip:

OF COURSE IT WAS A DREAM
—Robin Gale Odam

My mother guarded me with her
fine synonyms for fire, embers of
values from interpretations of fables
and guile.

The children of her muse wrapped me
with ribbons of disguise for the blessing
of anguish. Of course it was a dream.

              
(prev. pub. in Brevities, May 2020)

__________________

Many thanks to the Odam poets for today's fine fare as they riff on our Seed of the Week, "Beyond Absurd". Our new SOW is “The Lingering Scent of Roses”. Send your poems, photos & artwork about this (or any other) subject to kathykieth@hotmail.com. No deadline on SOWs, though, and for a peek at our past ones, click on “Calliope’s Closet”, the link at the top of this column, for plenty of others to choose from. And see every Form Fiddlers’ Friday for poetry form challenges, including those of the Ekphrastic type.

___________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

 

Sommerfrische

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A reminder that

Twin Lotus Thai presents

Cynthia Linville, Sue Daly,

and Richard Turner tonight

in Sacramento, 6pm.

For future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
 during the week.

Photos in this column can be enlarged by
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