Too Soon, Too Soon...

A POEM OF TOWERS
—James Wright

I am becoming one
Of the old men.
I wonder about them;
And how they became
So happy. Tonight
The trees in the Carl Schurz
Park by the East River
Had no need of electricity
To light their boughs, for the moon
And my love were enough.
More than enough the garbage
Scow plunging, the front hoof
Of a mule gone so wild through the water,
No need to flee. Who pities
You tonight, white-haired
Lu Yu? Wise and foolish
Both are gone, and my love
Leans on my shoulder precise
As the flute notes
Of the snow, with songs
And poems scattered
Over Shu, over the East River
That loves them and drowns them.

_______________________

Got my new shirtpocket-sized Silt Reader in the mail yesterday, with wonderful poems from Snake-pals Patricia Wellingham-Jones and Pearl Stein Selinsky. TSR is co-edited by Barton M. Saunders and local fella/poet Robert Roden; the two of them also run Temporary Vandalism Recordings. Send for a copy at T.V. Recordings, P.O. Box 6184, Orange, CA 92863 or check The Book Collector, where the journal is often carried. Or Google up The Silt Reader and get an order form. The latest issue is #8 and costs $2, though I don’t know about postage. And send them poems and B&W artwork!—the usual guidelines—or ask for info at tvrec@yahoo.com. Remember, at 4.25”X6.5”, the journal is half the usual size, so don’t send ‘em big long (or wide) epics.

Actually, there are quite a few journals that are that size out there, if your verbiage tends to be brief. Another local one is Brevities, edited and published by Joyce Odam. The usual guidelines for Joyce, too—and she hates e-mail submissions, by the way. She wants 3-5 poems snailed to her at 2432 48th Av., Sac. 95822. Her journal, with its beautiful, handmade insert papers, is monthly, so it’s always hungry.

Rae Gouirand, Writer-in-Residence at Cache Creek Nature Preserve writes: Hello, writers and friends of writing—I'm writing to announce the last poetry workshop in my 2005-2006 series at Cache Creek Nature Preserve. It will be called “The Poem and Form” and will be held on six Thursdays from June 29-August 3, 9-11 AM.

Is the poem a ritual entity? What kind of gravity is the formal impulse? What is form, actually, and what does it communicate with? In this workshop we will take up the question of what form creates (or otherwise does) in the poem, what forms might be born in (or of) contemporary poems, and, ultimately, what “form” can even mean when it blurs so distinctly with “voice.” This workshop will take up questions about subjects marked in notable ways by (and sometimes struggling noticeably with) form, including (possibly) the body, natural forms, symmetrical and gravitational systems, and the modern grid. Here we will leave questions about traditional prosody largely behind, favoring the chance to sound out new forms, at new paces, with new constructive goals. The sestina and sonnet might show up in our discussions, and probably will, but we’ll approach form as a larger issue of vision rather than as a mode of line governance.

Poets from all levels of experience are welcomed and encouraged—we will take up both very basic and more nuanced questions about the poetry we read as well as the poetry we create, and we value the perspectives of all interested minds. This class will offer participants the opportunity to connect with other writers, gather encouragement and feedback about their poetry, familiarize with a diverse selection of exciting contemporary poets, and develop several new poems from writing assignments. Each week, we’ll be talking about a few pieces presented to the group in order to sharpen and focus individual concerns and points of interest, and then we’ll dedicate a block of time to writing at the Preserve, using the landscape as a stepping-off point for imagining our own new pieces. Our main goals in this class are to develop a fluidity for talking about the writing we explore as a group and to write and enjoy the resources of the Preserve. Though we might share some new work at the end of some class meetings, we will be focusing on producing new work rather than on gathering feedback, and you will be working independently a good part of the time.

Since we only have six class meetings, participants are expected to commit to attending class on a regular basis. This workshop is offered free of charge to the public, thanks to a special grant from the Teichert Foundation and the support of Cache Creek Nature Preserve. To enroll, email Rae Gouirand, Writer-in-Residence, at rae_gouirand@yahoo.com. Please include "The Poem and Form" in your subject line and your name, email address, and phone number in your message.

________________________

Thanks for the info, Rae. NorCal-ers have always loved going to Cache Creek.

Alehouse Press of San Francisco presents the 2006 Happy Hour Poetry Awards. $1500 for Best Poem! (Hello—Is that a typo?? That'd buy Medusa beer for a week!) $125 to four runners-up! Yikes! Google up www.alehousepress.com for details; deadline is July 1.

And here's another reading to add to this week's calender, this one in Stockton:

•••This Saturday (6/3): Open Mic Poetry and workshop at Lola's Loca Mochas, 2860 North California St., Stockton (cross-street Monterey Ave., next to Alpine Market), 1 pm. Poets and Songwriters welcome! Free.

_______________________

SUN TAN AT DUSK
—James Wright

When was the last time
You remembered you
Had gone out? A bee
Blew past me. Jays
Raised hell down stream,
You rose up
Slow out of the mountain pool.
Color of doe out of green
Against dark.
The fawn's honey weeping down stream.
I just got up. This is
When I wake.

________________________

TWO HORSES PLAYING IN THE ORCHARD
—James Wright

Too soon, too soon, a man will come
To lock the gate, and drive them home.
Then, neighing softly through the night,
The mare will nurse her shoulder bite.
Now, lightly fair, through lock and mane
She gazes over the dusk again,
And sees her darkening stallion leap
In grass for apples, half asleep.

Lightly, lightly, on slender knees
He turns, lost in a dream of trees.
Apples are slow to find this day,
Someone has stolen the best away.
Still, some remain before the snow,
A few, trembling on boughs so low
A horse can reach them, small and sweet:
And some are tumbling to her feet.

Too soon, a man will scatter them,
Although I do not know his name,
His age, or how he came to own
A horse, an apple tree, a stone.
I let those horses in to steal
On principle, because I feel
Like half a horse myself, although
Too soon, too soon, already. Now.

________________________

—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.)