THE PLAN
—William S. Gainer, Grass Valley
Fall is on the ground
and it's going to lay there
until winter decides
to bully it around—
not me,
I ain't that tough.
My plan
is to pull my collar up,
turn into the wind
and let blow.
________________________
AUGUST 31
—Jeanine Stevens, Sacramento
The air is different today, dog days done,
Duncan dead, sorrel turns crimson,
and sea crows fly off the Irish Coast.
Autumn is nervous, weary of summer’s gushing,
yet in no mood for the coarse comfort of winter’s
grizzled chest, not ready for paper pilgrims,
and chubby squash tacked to windows,
will do anything to delay, postpone,
even sign a waver to reschedule this bargain.
Meanwhile, at stream’s edge, rusty
sedum fondle her leg—burgundy tipped sedge
gently opens to expose an overgrown thicket.
She looks back, surprised to see yarrow,
dianthus, feverfew still in full bloom,
she wants to disappear, but suddenly,
sun turns ice white, dry shadows fade petals
of golden mums, black walnut’s pungent oil
stains a frayed hem. She hears
the hollow sound of wild rye grass, blood
oranges crush under her feet, the sweet
decay calmly inhaled, begins spinning her claret
cloak, weaves a lapel of purple vines gathered
along the canal, glimpses him over her shoulder.
_______________________
Thanks to Rattlechappers Bill Gainer and Jeanine Stevens for sending Fall poems. The current Snake-a-Thon ended last night at midnight, but we still have more local poems about Fall to come, and they are, of course, all dandies! Medusa thanks all of you who sent us your work and participated in the current frivolity...
Still in the Mood to Write?
Cynthia Bryant, Pleasanton Poet Laureate and Mistress of Poets Lane writes: Poets Lane (www.poetslane.com) is accepting poems for the page for October: False Heroes, Shadow and Time poetry. Or if you prefer, send a poem for the "Get it Off Your Chest" page of mental-health rant poems, your choice of topics. Poet's Lane is also accepting poems for The Gift of Words, Poems for the Iraqi People; for more information, go to www.poetslane.com and click on the "Special Poetry Related" page and scroll down to the book. Also: If you are interested in having your picture/bio and contact information put on Poet’s Lane’s "Poets in the Know" page, send the information to Cynthia at PoetsLane@comcast.net.
Tonight:
•••Weds. (9/27), 10 PM-midnight: Mics and Moods at Capitol Garage, 1500 K St., Sac. Features and Open Mic hosted by Khiry Malik. $5, 21 and over. Info: www.malikspeaks.com or 916-492-9336.
•••Weds. (9/27), 6 PM: Open mic/read-around at Hidden Passage Books, 352 Main St., Placerville. Come join us (and the skeleton under the floor) for an hour of poetry; bring your own poems or somebody else’s. Free.
The Inimitable Jane Blue:
Sacramento's Jane Blue writes: I have poems in Innisfree Poetry Journal 3, which you can find at http://www.innisfreepoetry.org. I think it's a very good e-zine. Watch for Jane's new chapbook, Turf Daisies and Dandelions, coming from Rattlesnake Press in November. Jane was kind enough to send Fall poems:
THE FALL
—Jane Blue, Sacramento
Yesterday a woman crumpled
on the sidewalk outside the coffee house patio.
I saw her shoes disembodied
under the hedge. She was carrying
a plastic cup of amber tea
and some other things. One arm
suddenly went up. Then she refracted
into parts: the glass, the arm, strips
of leather on flat-soled sandals.
The trees above her were losing their leaves.
Three people called out simultaneously,
“Are you all right?” There was
a pause. Then she answered weakly,
“Yes,” and I saw her reassemble herself,
gathering her papers and her dignity.
They gave her another cup of tea
and she rewound the scene
without falling this time.
(previously appeared in Poetry Depth Quarterly, 2005)
_______________________
FALL, SACRAMENTO
—Jane Blue
1
Cabbage butterfly grazes,
wings slightly chartreuse,
stalk by stalk, the broccoli:
wings with two dark spots low,
close to the body, fake
and tempting, fluttering—
when the veil is lifted:
startling eyes; it alights
and caresses, sniffs
like a lover the dusky
broccoli leaves, blind
and instinctual, following
cabbage scent, wills food
from curled young leaves
mimicking the petals of flowers—
weary with thirst
and butterfly weight.
Later
I water the broccoli
and the broccoli thanks me,
stands straight up,
unfurling its shadowy
crenelated leaves
in a salute.
2
The light hurt at first
when you unthreaded my lids
and made me see
days' unhinged visions:
in the backyard, one mauve zinnia
pops up in the crack
between concrete, seed carried
from a ragged bed with last
straggles of eggplant, green
streaked midnight globes
hidden in gangly mildewed zinnias—
phosphorescent volunteers
panicked by the end of summer—
and in the front yard
fat black beetles,
rimmed in red and green, roam
lanky dry alyssum bed, flowers
pale green like lace on water, so
fragrant that suddenly a street
I've walked in another life, a house
I've lived in, flickers into now—
all the aromas, all the heart-pangs,
intangible and hopelessly real.
In the morning a silent star
moves toward me, over the roof,
slowly, as I gaze
out the kitchen window
and rising from the ground
through the black pre-dawn
the long hoot of a train—
takes two days for me to understand
the star is only a plane
getting out of here.
(from Now that I am in the Light I See by Jane Blue. Konocti Books, Winters, CA, 1996)
_______________________
Thanks, Jane!
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their poetry, photos and art, 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.)