Before I Fade and Rot

ON TURNING SIXTY
—Taylor Graham, Somerset

Old age is a flight of small cheeping birds
—William Carlos Williams

Listen to the cheeping chatter
rousing you from youth’s dreams
slipping, falling into morning.
Glad! the silly dawn-birds sing.
Gone is 59 forever! Your angst
twisted in a daisy chain. Girls
suppose Age settles somewhere
else, not on a bare limb outside
each window. But Come! the birds
sing to you now. Their tiny feet
track laugh-creases on the snow.
Woe to wrinkles, the scaly claw.
Wrong of all these blather-birds,
so ephemeral, to warble Spring
gone down last year and the last
to lands where Winter’s crows
sing sweet, Wake up and listen!

______________________

Thanks, TG!

Village Homes Community Center in Davis is holding a series of readings; the next will be this coming Monday (1/23) from 6:45-9 pm. In addition to open mic (sign-ups at 6:45), the featured performer for January will be Dr. Joan Garcia, usually known as Granny, or The Frog Lady, who produces songs and stories from the heart, music for children 2 to 102. She draws upon the richness of her experience to create a bubbling fountain of "silly songs," stories that allow the child in all of us to take joy in the simple things in life. Dr. Garcia has been featured at poetry venues in San Francisco and Walnut Creek, and given performances in Davis, Concord, Rio Vista, Sacramento, and other local communities, spreading her tales beyond the local community through her performances, through CDs available on her website (www.grannyspearls.com), and through videos for public access television (Vacaville and Sacramento). DIRECTIONS: Follow Russell west past the Arlington jog. First right after Arlington is Portage Bay. Turn right into the parking lot at 2661 Portage Bay. Park and follow the sign to the sidewalk to the Village Homes Community Center.

Tiger’s Eye: A Journal of Poetry has a contest deadline of February 28. Guidelines: tigerseyejournal.com. Mail entries (3 poems, $10, SASE) to Tiger’s Eye, POBox 2935, Eugene, OR 97402. ALSO: The Tiger’s Eye gals would like to see your work space! Send b/w photos (preferably, though color will be accepted), and Colette and JoAn will choose one photo for a future cover of the journal. They say, “Don’t clean up the mess; just show it like it is.” For further Tiger info, click on the link to the right of this. And while you're at it, click on the two new links: Ekphrasis and Poetry Depth Quarterly (PDQ), both fine, international publications headed by local poets. (And send a wee note to Tiger Co-Editor JoAn Osborne, who has recently spent a small stint in the hospital.)


LOVE POEM
—Edward Abbey

Under that leaking sky
the color of dead souls
where the snow is always gray
on asphalt and cement
and obscure birds
of dubious origin
seldom sing
or never sing at all
in the naked elms—
we found, somehow, you and I,
through the confusion
and brutal dullness
of the city falling in its sickness—
the shock of something wild
and secret, almost forgotten,
that flows through eyes
and nerves like fire—
yes, you and I,
in the good sweet luck
of our coming together.

________________

TERROR AND DESIRE
—Edward Abbey

The light floods out and falls
for the last time today
over the canyon walls
where the tiger lizards play.
Where the scorpions play.

West, the nighthawks circle,
cry, plunge and kill,
in the sun's cool fire
flared above the hill.
Dying over the hill.

(While under the juniper tree,
with a cold elegance,
the rattlesnake glides,
death in his glance.
Hunger in his glance.)

The night creeps after the sun
with the faith of a lover,
or the stealth of one
with hate to uncover.
With fear to uncover.

I think that I could follow
and walk through fire,
forever, into that great hollow
of flame and desire.
Of terror and desire.

_____________________

AUGUST, 1956—ARCHES
—Edward Abbey

Once more before I fade and rot
Let love come
Come to me let it come
As the wren to the canyon
And berry to the juniper
The tassel to corn
O let love come and grow within me
Like an angel-child, like a child-angel,
Descending a moon-ray
Like a plume of tamarisk
Falling on grass.

____________________

And finally, Richard Hansen writes: Susan Kelly-DeWitt asked me to pass along the sad news that poet Charlie MacDonald passed away Wednesday evening.

—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. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)