ETERNITY
—James Lee Jobe, Davis
(for C. G. MacDonald)
Charlie, sunrise is a three-legged mongrel dog,
going deaf, already blind in one eye,
answering to the unlikely name, 'Lucky.'
The sky, at gray-blue dawn, is a football field painted
by smiling artists. Each artist has 3 arms, 3 hands, 3 legs.
One leg drags behind, leaving a trail, leaving a mark.
The future resembles a cloudy dream
where the ghosts of all your life
try to tell you something, but what?
Noon is a plate of mashed potatoes and gravy.
Midnight is an ugly chipped plate
that you only use when you are alone.
Sunset is a wise cat who ignores you
even when you are offering food; her conception
of what life is, or isn't, far exceeds our own.
This moment is a desert at midnight,
the hunting moon is full, and owls
fly through a cloudless sky.
The past is a winding, green river valley
deep between pine covered ridges;
what can you make of that?
Night is a secret plant growing inky black against the sky.
When this plant's life is over, then day returns
like a drunken husband who stayed out until breakfast.
A smile is a quick glimpse at the pretty face of hope.
Hope's face is framed by the beautiful night sky.
Hope's face is framed by the gray-blue dawn.
This is your life, these seconds and years
are the music for your only dance. Charlie,
this is the eternity that you get to know.
___________________
Thanks, JLee, for the tribute to Charlie MacDonald. Come hear James Lee Jobe read tonight at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sac., 7:30 pm.
Also debuting at tonight's Rattle-read is frank andrick’s new littlesnake broadside, Aurelia Occultica Lamantia—AOL. Frank is the host of "The Pomo Literati" (part of the KUSF Spotlight Series), a bi-weekly two-hour poetry/spoken word radio program that showcases contemporary poets and produced or spontaneous live performance sound/wordscapes. Rare recordings from Apollinaire to Zappa help round out the eclectic mix of sound and word. On Sunday, February 12, from 2-4 pm, Tara Jepsen reads from Like A Dog, her soon-to-be published novel. A reprise/return engagement by David Houston will feature the poetically-driven songs and sounds of David and The Christyna’s—live vox and strings in the studio. Also: Patti Smith recorded live in London, reading the complete “Coral Sea”, her prose-piece tribute to Robert Mapplethorpe. Plus: pre-recorded LOB, Murray, and Rachel Savage. Classic poetic rarities and contemporary spoken word. Sunday, February 12th, 2pm to 4pm on the KUSF Spotlight 90.3 FM San Francisco, or go global on the Internet at www.live365.com/stations/kusf.
WOLF ON THE PORCH
—Kate Wells, Placerville
Open the front door—120 pounds of grey fur, teeth
and yellow eyes. The upstream neighbor's wolf hybrid.
In the last month he's killed 8 of my chickens. Now his feet—
blotched with blood—strut on my porch.
My toddler is behind me, my daughter's behind him.
Our dog blunders past. The dog whose job it is to lick
oatmeal off the kids. Who lives for two scoops of dry-dust kibble.
This dog cuts between me and the wolf, rears up
on his hind legs—and goes for the throat.
The rearing wolf is taller than me. His weight
drops my dog. I press the kids back inside.
Thunder on the porch. When I walk out, Wolf is gone.
Dog gets three scoops tonight.
_______________
LAVERNE
—Patricia Wellingham-Jones, Tehama
We call her LaVerne the Lovely
and take her on our ranch walks,
docile as a huge white cotton ball
at the end of a blue braided leash.
Her amber eyes ringed in purple
glow above the doggy smile.
She samples creek water, marks
her territory, checks to see
who visited last.
LaVerne doesn't look so lovely
to the coyote stealing down to the sheep.
In the field the Great Pyrenees dog
rises on legs rigid as fence posts.
She bares large teeth, expands her chest in a roar
that brings the rancher
running, rifle cocked.
Coyote melts into shadow,
fades from the field.
Rancher returns to his late dinner.
LaVerne paces around her wooly charges
huddled in a fluffy mass,
those amber eyes burning.
_____________________
Thanks, Kate and PWJ! Rattlechapbooks are in the mail to these folks. We're celebrating the Year of the Dog—send Medusa a poem of your own this week—about dogs or new beginnings or whatever tweaks your pen—and I'll send you a rattlechap, either James DenBoer's Black Dog, or Jeanine Stevens' new The Keeping Room, or any Rattlechap you don't already have (let me know). Your poem has to get to me by FRIDAY, though, so email is probably best: kathykieth@hotmail.com.
—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.)