GLASS
—Miroslav Holub
Li Po was glass.
Kant was glass.
We observe ourselves like transparent
sea anemones.
We see the dark purple heart
beating,
we see the grey lungs, wings
rising and falling,
we see the oligochaetic
worms of thought
gnawing under the cap.
Linnaeus was glass.
Mozart was glass.
Franz Josef was glass.
In the transparent belly
we see the tubular moon,
and behind the crystalline mouth
the swallowed words.
A prisoner is glass,
a policeman is glass,
sixty glass robots
reside in the castle.
Behind the swallowed words
we see the glass-wool
of incessant melody.
Only the dead
draw the curtain
from within.
(translated from the Czech by David Young and Dana Habova)
_______________________
This weekend:
•••Sat/Sun (11/4-5): "The Beat Generation and Beyond" at the John Natsoulas Art Gallery in Davis and the Crocker Art Museum in Sacramento. Performances by Peter Selz, Michael McClure, Diane di Prima and George Herms. Guided Crocker Art Museum tour of photos by Allen Ginsberg. Optional $50 lunch on Friday (today). Co-sponsored by UC Davis Technocultural Studies. More details:
http://www.natsoulas.com/html/beatweb/beat.html.
•••Saturday (11/4), 11 AM: Escritores del Nuevo Sol's monthly writing workshop and potluck. La Raza Galeria Posada, $5. [I think today's Sacramento Bee lists the gallery's old address; call 916-456-5323 or JoAnn Anglin at 916-451-1372 for the new one.]
•••Sunday (11/5), 6 PM. PoemSpirits presents Josh McKinney from CSUS. Series co-facilitator Tom Goff will also present a brief overview of the work of Marie Ponsot, who refers to poetry as “passionate speech; language on a rampage.” Unitarian Universalist Society of Sacramento, 2425 Sierra Blvd., 2 blocks north of Fair Oaks Blvd, between Howe and Fulton Avenues. UUSS Foyer/Lounge. Free; Snacks available. info: Tom Goff or Nora Staklis, 916-481-3312, or JoAnn Anglin, 916-451-1372. Open mic: All are invited to bring a poem of your own or another’s to read.
•••Monday (Nov. 6), 7:30 PM: The Sacramento Poetry Center features Don Rice at HQ for the Arts, 25th & R Sts., Sac.
_______________________
Get ready for the Moobie!
I Began to Speak is a film by The Archives Group. Produced, written and directed by B.L. Kennedy, with photography, editing and design by Linda Thorell, I Began to Speak is a documentry of the history of poetry in the city of Sacramento from approximately 1960 to 2006. It features some 41 area poets who tell the story of the evolution of a single poetry community in their own voices, including, among others, frank andrick, B.L. Kennedy, Linda Thorell, Arthur Butler, Ann Menebroker, Neeli Cherkovski, Joyce Odam, Crawdad Nelson, Mary Mackey, Bill Gainer, Bill Carr, Eugene B. Redmond, Terry Moore, Doug Blazek, D.R. Wagner, Dennis Schmitz, Jose Montoya, Estaban Villa, Pat Grizzell, Chris Olander, Todd Cirillo, Rhony Bhopla, Richard Hansen, Terryl & Eric, Julia Connor, Joyce Odam, Kathy Kieth, Jane Blue, and Gene Bloom, to name but a few of the poets who tell the story of a very rich community. The movie will be premiered on Wednesday, December 6, at 7 PM at the Crest Theatre, 1013 K Street, Sacramento, CA. Advance tickets now on sale at the Crest Theatre (916-442-5189) or sid@thecrest.com, or at the theatre box office. Tickets are $10. Limited seating. This will be the only showing of a unique and very special film in 2006. The movie was funded in part by an ArtScapes Grant from the Sacramento Metropolitan Arts Commission, and was filmed with equipment from Access Sacramento.
_______________________
MAN CURSING THE SEA
—Miroslav Holub
Someone
just climbed to the top of the cliffs
and began to curse the sea.
Dumb water, stupid pregnant water,
slow, slimy copy of the sky,
you peddler between sun and moon,
pettifogging pawnbroker of shells,
soluble, loud-mouthed bull,
fertilizing the rocks with your blood,
suicidal sword
dashed to bits on the headland,
hydra, hydrolyziing the night,
breathing salty clouds of silence,
spreading jelly wings
in vain, in vain,
gorgon, devouring its own body,
water, you absurd flat skull of water—
And so he cursed the sea for a spell,
it licked his footprints in the sand
like a wounded dog.
And then he came down
and patted
the tiny immense stormy mirror of the sea.
There you go, water, he said,
and went his way.
(translated by Stuart Friebert and Dana Habova)
_________________________
LOVE
—Miroslav Holub
Two thousand cigarettes.
A hundred miles
from wall to wall.
An eternity and a half of vigils
blanker than snow.
Tons of words
old as the tracks
of a platypus in the sand.
A hundred books we didn't write.
A hundred pyramids we didn't build.
Sweepings.
Dust.
Bitter
as the beginning of the world.
Believe me when I say
it was beautiful.
(translated by George Theiner)
_____________________________
—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.)