ANOMALY
—David Humphreys, Stockton
Feeling caught up in an irresistible process,
stick in a river torrent of substractions,
leaves surrender to a blast of wind.
Your descriptions, somewhere off beyond
the intentional place where you are most content
to fold your furrowed letter, feeling along the edge
of unanswerable questions, finding the middle
of illusory pages, shifting invisible paper held under
a pressuring palm, running a calloused finger down
crease and fold, one more time in half then into
the envelope, licking the glue and slamming it shut,
Gauguin, quite distant, tranquil and grinning on
the opposite shore as toothy combers roll over the
outer reef, Van Gogh's feverish brush strokes
cloaking a heart of swirling change.
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Thanks, David. Send me a poem about change (seasons, moving, or otherwise) and I'll send you Jane's wonderful new chapbook, Turf Daisies and Dandelions. Or Sharyn Stever's equally-wonderful chap, Heron's Run. Or something else, if you have those two. Send your change poem to kathykieth@hotmail.com or P.O. Box 1647, Orangevale, CA 95662 by midnight next Tuesday, November 14. Or send it in a bunch with your submission for Rattlesnake Review (deadline is next Wednesday!); just mark which is which. All "change" poems you send will be posted on Medusa.
Manzanita correx:
The original publicity for the Manzanita reading today [see yesterday's post] said 4 PM; actually, it's 2 PM. That's quite a difference; take note.
For those of you who are following the Moving Saga:
Yesterday, we had an offer accepted on a house in Pollock Pines. 3151 Darby Lane, to be exact. A cedar "cabin" in the woods on the south side of Hwy. 50. We'll be moving sometime around Christmas; Medusa will probably shut down for a couple of weeks. Or not. We'll see.
And no, Sam the Snake Man and I are NOT getting a divorce. He's coming too, and has even found a new studio space up there. No commuting required. More space, more sunshine, less money. Yippee!
And no, Rattlesnake Pressssss is NOT going out of business; the Snake will have his very own nest away from the rest of the house. Most of our communication is done through e-mail, anyway. And I do intend to come down to Sac at least once a week. Business as usual.
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Green little gardens,
bright little squares,
verdigris fountain,
where water dreams,
where mute water
slips over stone!...
Leaves of faded
green, almost black,
of the acacias—the wind
of September has
stripped their flowers
and carried a few,
yellow and dry,
to play there in the white
dust of the earth.
Pretty girl,
filling your pitcher
with transparent water,
when you catch sight of me you don't
lift your brown hand
and arrange the black curls
of your hair
and admire yourself
in the limpid crystal...
You gaze into the air
of the beautiful evening
while the clear water
fills your pitcher.
—Antonio Machado
(translated from the Spanish by Richard Lewis)
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FIGURES IN THE FIELD AGAINST THE SKY!
—Antonio Machado
Figures in the field against the sky!
Two slow oxen plowing
a knoll in early autumn:
between the black heads
bent below the heavy yoke
hangs a basket made of broom and reed—
a child's cradle.
Behind the team
a man plods, leaning toward the earth;
a woman
throws seed in open furrows.
Under a cloud of flame and crimson
in the green fluid gold of sunset,
these shadows grow gigantic.
(translated from the Spanish by Richard Lewis)
_______________________
—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.)