Chez Kieth, 2007—
The New Snake Digs
(photo by Kim Miller)
HANDS
—Donald Finkel
The poem makes truth a little more disturbing,
like a good bra, lifts it and holds it out
in both hands. (In some of the flashier stores
there's a model with the hands stitched on, in red or black.)
Lately the world you wed, for want of such hands,
sags in the bed beside you like a tired wife.
For want of such hands, the face of the moon is bored,
the tree does not stretch and yearn, not the groin tighten.
Devious or frank, in any case,
the poem is calculated to arouse.
Lean back and let its hands play freely on you:
there comes a moment, lifted and aroused,
when the two of you are equally beautiful.
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Submit! Submit!
•••The editors of cæsura, from Poetry Center San Jose, invite you to submit 1-3 poems addressing the issue of MORTALITY and the general theme of mortality in our age. Submissions should not exceed 4 pages in total. All styles are welcome. Deadline is February 15, 2007. In addition to poetry, we are interested in essays and reviews of poetry or mixed genre collections (please query). The Spring 2007 issue of cæsura will be published in May of 2007. Provide the following contact information with your submission: name, address, phone number, and email address. Previously published work (in print or online) will not be considered. We accept simultaneous submissions on the condition that you notify us immediately upon acceptance elsewhere. Send your work in an email attachment in Word.doc format or pasted as plain text into the body of an email message to caesura@pcsj.org. If your work requires the preservation of a particular visual format or contains special characters, also send a hard copy to:
caesura
Poetry Center San José
1127 Polk Avenue
Sunnyvale, CA 94086
•••The Pedestal Magazine is also accepting submissions of poetry and fiction. For further info and to review the work of previous contributors, please visit website: www.thepedestalmagazine.com
By the way, Medusa does not claim to like or dislike any of these magazines that she posts info about; it's up to you to do the research and find out if any of them suits you and your work. I always advise people to get a copy—or nowadays you can find out a tremendous amount about journals online—before they submit. Why send one kind of poetry when the editors clearly want another? Or, heck, you may discover that you wouldn't want your poetry or your name to be seen dead there—that happens to the Snake all the time! :-) Then again, if you're a Poetry Slut like Medusa, you figure a credit's a credit, and there's no such thing as Too Many...
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DINNER AT THE HOTEL DE LA TIGRESSE VERTE
—Donald Evans
1-Terrace
As they sat sipping their glasses in the courtyard
Of the Hotel de la Tigresse Verte,
With their silk-swathed ankles softly kissing,
They were certain that they had forever
Imprisioned fickleness in the vodka—
They knew they had found the ultimate pulse of love.
Story upon story, the dark windows whispered down
To them from above, and over the roof's edge
Danced a grey moon.
The woman pressed her chicken-skin fan against her breast
And through her ran trepidant mutinies of desire
With treacheries of emotion. Her voice vapoured:
"In which room shall it be to-night, darling?"
His eyes swept the broad facade, the windows,
Tier upon tier, and his lips were regnant:
"In every room, my beloved!"
2-Loyalty
I am kissing your wayward feet—
The rumours of flight are broken,
Your hands are a dear pale token.
I adore you to touch me, sweet,
And now are the frail vows spoken.
It is bravely the words are said,
Faith is a flash on our faces—
We mock as the mummer traces
The dawn when the month is dead,
Loyalty mussed like your laces.
_______________________
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their POETRY, PHOTOS and ART, as well as 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.)
