CHANGES
—James Lee Jobe, Davis
1
Look at the skeleton people that my toes have become!
Perhaps they have lives of their own! When the master
pulls the strings they rattle their bones at him.
It is all in a day's work. A World War One vet said to me,
"You'll know you're old when the whole rest of the world
seems like idiots." "Some people are born old," I told him.
2
My fingers have been replaced by ploughshares, beaten
from someone else's sword. Each digit lives it's own dream,
so my hands are like movie theaters! A matinee is starting soon,
and anyway, the real money is in the snack bar. I hold my fingers
up in the bathroom light, lightening bolts shoot from the tips,
and I remember, for once, to put the seat down for my wife.
3
Dreams and memories seem more and more alike,
and in those moments when I am neither asleep
or awake it is hard to tell the difference between the two.
What I did, what I remember, what I dream—it is all the same now.
Why compare? My nose is a hound dog, here to sniff it all out! My ears
are also dogs, and they stare at the gate, waiting for the master to return.
4
If ever I was innocent, I can't remember it. It seems like I've always
been behind my place in the race, but with a good reason that
I just can't explain. My eyes have pages like a book, and written
on these pages is a story that you really don't need to know.
Please be careful not to lose my place!
Each page is the weight of a submarine.
5
The sun is setting, but it is winter, really it is still quite early.
Don't be fooled by darkness! Dinner will be ready soon,
and all of the family will sit together in a circle. My hair
is green lichen that covers all, like on the boulders
of the Yuba River. Every meal, every year,
every day, I pull them all closer and closer.
_______________________
Thanks, JJ! Tonight (Fri., 5/12), The Other Voice in Davis presents Rhony Bhopla and rattlechapper James Lee Jobe (What God Said When She Finally Answered Me) in the Unitarian Church Library, 27072 Patwin Rd., Davis, 7:30 pm. Info: 530-902-4591.
•••Saturday (5/13): Renowned poet and translator Lillian Vallee is the featured poet for the Spring Issue of Song of the San Joaquin, and she will read her own work at the McHenry Museum, 1402 "I" St., Modesto. The 2 pm program is free, and many valley poets will gather to read their poems from the newest edition of Song. Info: Cleo Griffith, (209) 543-1776 or cleor36@yahoo.com.
•••Also Saturday (5/13), Featured poets Abul Haliz Al Saif Allah and Rob Anthony will read at a CD release: "Jasouloetry". 3-5 pm at Queen Sheba Restraurant, 1537 Howe Av., free. Info: 916-920-1020.
•••Also Saturday (5/13): There will be a Think Postcard! workshop in Winters at 10 am at the Winters Branch Library, 201 First St., Winters.
•••And it’s not poetry, but on Saturday (5/13) the Crocker Art Museum Art Book Fair will be held in the outdoor courtyard of the Museum from 10 am to 4 pm. Free admission and activities, including hands-on bookmaking and story time; “How to Build Your Art Library” with Richard L. Press; a Think Postcard! workshop; and a special reading by Rachel Rodriquez, author of Through Georgia’s Eyes, a portrait of artist Georgia O’Keefe. All this, plus unique and limited-edition books from specialty publishing houses! That’s at the Crocker Art Museum, 216 O St., Sac. Info: 916-264-5531.
•••Sunday (5/14), take your mother to hear Donald Sydney-Fryer read the poems of the great California Romantic Poet, George Sterling, at the Poems-for-All reading at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sac., from 4-6 pm. Info: 916-442-9295.
•••Monday (5-15), Lesley Gale will be reading at Sacramento Poetry Center, HQ (25th & R Sts., Sac.) 7:30 pm. That day is also the deadline to submit your poems for the next Rattlesnake Review (#10). Getcher pomes in NOW!!!
Thanks to the endless rain we had this spring, the foothills are forests of what we erroneously call "weeds" and other brush, increasing the fire hazard for summer. Plus, regulations now demand 100' of "defensible space" instead of the old 30'. This has our foothill friends out there with their sickles and steak knives and whatever else they can use to hack through the jungle. Then they get to play with matches:
BURNING SLASH
—Taylor Graham, Somerset
We piled pine boughs, cedar fronds,
hacked manzanita trunks
atop the oak stump. Dry twigs
and needles. Burn
to be fire-safe, you said, and lit
the match.
A hesitation
of light breeze before it caught,
torching pine-tips, exploding cedar
as if fueled by gasoline.
Manzanita leaves flared from slick
red limbs, wild-haired ladies
turning white, lifting on wind,
each ash-leaf delicate as a moth
fleeing flame.
With rake and shovel
we shepherded the edges, turned
the fire back on itself.
At last there was nothing
but the old stump, a black tooth
on a gray gum; cinder-cone
of lava sparks.
We watched it into the dark.
By morning, a black crater
like the beginning of the next
world.
______________________
Thanks, TG! Is that cool—and HOT—or what? (Medusa, like all poets, of course, loves to play with fire.......)
—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.)