If I'd Taken Up Archery

INDOOR ARCHERY, DAYTON, NEVADA
—Ray Hadley, South Lake Tahoe

If I'd taken up archery instead of poetry
I think I would have had greater success,
certainly more encouragement
in my progress.

If I'd take up flower arranging, I'd find
that the bouquets I would have put together
would usually last longer than the life
of my poems.

Baking sourdough bread would have been
a useful art to learn, keeping the yeast
growing on a dark, kitchen shelf,
watching the dough rise and form a crust.

Too often my poems come back in the mail
marked account closed, insufficient funds.

I love being alone in the indoor archery range.
Late at night, there's no one at the counter.
A yellow light spills out the front window
onto an empty parking lot.

Every sound echoes through the brick building,
against the neutrality of its concrete blocks.
Its metal doors are rolled down and locked tight.

The old warehouse was some place where they
used to paint cars, decorating
the sides of vans with ocean sunsets.

The ringing phone goes unanswered
while I shoot arrows into a bale of straw.
I like making tight clusters and pulling them
out of the red bulls-eye and the yellow
and blue circles that surround it.

It's all paid off, the breathing exercises,
the weight lifting, the miles running
through the city park. I've developed an eye,
and learned to let go in the quiet part of my breath.

Poetry, on the other hand, is often a waste of time.
It's too much like the practice of law,
adversarial in its very nature and far too public.

A good poem is often like an arrow
hitting a bulls-eye in an empty warehouse.

There's the soft thud and twang of the shaft
hitting the straw, the blur as it settles down
so you can see the feathers distinct again.

The sad thing is, that if I were to take up archery,
I'd only be doing it to get a poem.

Only after I close, turn off the light, drive away
from the warehouse isolated at the edge
of a small Nevada town do I see any poetry in it.

Moonlight illuminates miles of sage behind a wire
fence running along a two-lane highway.

All the way home I keep making these lopping shots
with broken and bent arrows, arrows with missing feathers,
sent flying into a field of sage, where I,
assuming the role of a poet, work the moonlight fields,
harvesting a crop of lost arrows.

________________________

Thanks, Ray! Ray Hadley is on the staff of Ash Canyon Review, which came out of a group of Tahoe poets and has so far published one issue (Summer of 2005). Rattlesnake Review #10 will feature some of the many poets who reside in Far Eastern California/Lake Tahoe environs, including Ray and the Ash Canyon poets. The first issue included Sacramentans Laverne Frith and Catherine French, and other notables such as David Lee ("Pig Poet" and the first Poet Laureate of Utah), Ellen Bass, and Simon Perchik.

Here is another EastCal poet, Michael Kiriluk, an Ash Canyon poet in absentia who says he used to live in Carson City but has now moved to California to “pursue the Muse and my grandson through the poison oak”:

WITHOUT A NET
—Michael Kiriluk, Sonora

He caught butterflies on his tongue,
gathered them gently
into the grotto

of his mouth, their lurid colors
brightened by his eager breath.
He drew butterflies

across the flutter
of his mouth, the taste, ephemeral
in passing, light

as amber pollen, staining
the dry chrysalis
of his lips, yellow,

the musty scent of pupa, long
past. He caught butterflies
on his sticky

tongue, their wings, folded
rainbows, soft as vulvic
promise, honey-sweet to his longing.

Chained in captive reverie, never
to follow the sun, he caught
butterflies on his tongue.

_______________________

Thanks, Michael!

Looks like the Sacramento Metropolitan Arts Commission is looking for a few good men—oops, people—to serve on one of its six community advisory committees, including the Art in Public Places Committee and the Poet Laureate Committee. Members meet about two hours/month. See www.sacculture.com for applications; deadline is 5/15. Info: 916-566-3992.

Molly Fisk writes: The May Boot Camp begins in a week if anyone would like to celebrate spring with a garland of six new poems. The dates are Sunday, May 14th to Friday, May 19th (a good Mother's Day present for any mom-poets you know). To register, and find out more about Poetry Boot Camp, visit: http://www.poetrybootcamp.com. (There's a poet signed up for this camp who lives and works at the South Pole!) I'd also like to let you know that the workshop in Utah IS going to happen. This is for writers of all kinds, not just poets: Writing in Place: Utah's Red Rock Country with Molly Fisk. Daily Yoga with Marilyn Kriegel.
Boulder Mountain Lodge Boulder, Utah, Aug 28—Sept 1, 2006, $375. This will be a workshop of writing and critiquing new writing in the morning and playing in the afternoon, with after-dinner talks, discussions, and a public reading we'll put on at the local Anasazi museum (don't freak out, reading is optional). There will be yoga
sessions at least once a day, led by my close friend Marilyn Kriegel,
if you're interested. The surrounding country is incredible: http://www.utah.com/nationalsites/grand_staircase.htm—and the food is amazing (and award-winning!) If you're interested in this writing/yoga/hiking/gorgeous landscape workshop, let me know as soon as you can: http://www.poetrybootcamp.com. Then send me your payment of $375 by June 1st. (If you need to negotiate other arrangements, let me know.)

Closing with one from rattlechapper Jeanine Stevens (The Keeping Room), whose chapbook is available at The Book Collector:

LITTLE FLOWER
—Jeanine Stevens, Sacramento

a garden wedding
beyond the brick
walk, under the
rose arch covered
with a climbing
Joseph’s Coat
—a halo of orange,
yellow, red—the
net skirt scratchy,
patent leather shoes
pinch toes—then,
pale Cosmos brush
against her leg,
to remind her
—she slows her
steps, moves soft
as satin, knows
she carries blessings
in her basket.

(Previously published in Ruah)

_______________________

Thanks, Jeanine! Jeanine got smart and sent Medusa a fistful of previously-published poems that were just sitting around snoozing. Remember my comments about "Are you missing a bet?" by not sending me prev-pubbed poems that could be out there working, instead of resting on their laurels? Get 'em off their lazy butts; poems can have many appearances in their lifetimes. Even after they're published, they can go into chapbooks, into other journals (online and print) that accept prev-pubs, onto the Fair Medusa for all to admire......

—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.)