DISILLUSIONMENT OF TEN O'CLOCK
—Wallace Stevens
The houses are haunted
By white night-gowns.
None are green,
Or purple with green rings,
Or green with yellow rings,
Or yellow with blue rings.
None of them are strange,
With socks of lace
And beaded ceintures.
People are not going
To dream of baboons and periwinkles.
Only, here and there, an old sailor,
Drunk and asleep in his boots,
Catches tigers
In red weather.
______________________
So how were your dreams last night? Is your house haunted with white nightgowns—or are they in technicolor?
My house is haunted with snakes—the bones and teeth of issue #7, to be precise, and stacks of chaps for Ron Tranquilla's reading and book release tonight (7:30 at The Book Collector). Also premiering at the reading tonight will be Todd Cirillo's littlesnake broadside, Another Heart Dancing in the Flames.
Brad Buchanan will be hosting an open mike poetry reading at the
Barnes & Noble in Citrus Heights (6111 Sunrise Blvd.) this Friday, Sept. 2 at 7:00pm. Bring your own work and a friend!
Supanove (Noah Hayes) writes: Music and Poetry Series is back in full affect at Luna’s Café (1414 16th St., Sac.), beginning this Saturday. September will be featuring Supercaliflowlinguists, a poetry super-group that has been reppin in the poetry scene individually since the Blue Room Days at the now faded Jazzmen’s Art of Pasta. This group features Cleo Cartell, Khiry Malik, Ike Torres. The doors open at 7pm. with poetry beginning at 8pm. The open mic list will be in affect as usual and everyone who is brave enough to sign up is guaranteed time on the mic. So bring your poetry, music, instruments, jokes—anything you want to share!
More from Wallace Stevens:
EARTHY ANECDOTE
—Wallace Stevens
Every time the bucks went clattering
Over Oklahoma
A firecat bristled in the way.
Wherever they went,
They went clattering,
Until they swerved
In a swift, circular line
To the right,
Because of the firecat.
Or until they swerved
In a swift, circular line
To the left,
Because of the firecat.
The bucks clattered.
The firecat went leaping,
To the right, to the left,
And
Bristled in the way.
Later, the firecat closed his bright eyes
And slept.
_____________________
Thanks, Wally!
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry and announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets.