photo by Jane Blue, Sacramento
WHERE THE PICNIC WAS
—Thomas Hardy
Where we made the fire
In the summer time
Of branch and briar
On the hill to the sea,
I slowly climb
Through winter mire,
And scan and trace
The forsaken place
Quite readily.
Now a cold wind blows,
And the grass is gray,
But the spot still shows
As a burnt circle—aye,
And stick-ends, charred,
Still strew the sward
Whereon I stand,
Last relic of the band
Who came that day!
Yes, I am here
Just as last year,
And the sea breathes brine
From its stange straight line
Up hither, the same
As when we four came.
—But two have wandered far
From this grassy rise
Into urban roar
Where no picnics are,
And one—has shut her eyes
For evermore.
_______________________
Today Tom Goff sends us another poem about Hardy, with this introduction: One for your blog, if you wish; it's a serious thing about Hardy, since poetic karma demands that after my last endeavor [see Jan. 17 post below, about Hardy's heart]. I'm assembling, now that I've stumbled on it, another, perhaps much longer found poem on the whole business of Hardy's heart—it's quite the literary anecdote, apparently—since looking at all the different versions amounts to a great big academic game of "telephone."
HARDY'S BIKE
—Tom Goff, Carmichael
He calls it his “Red Cob” American,
the name stemming from a Tennessee
strain of corn, red in the ear, white in the kernel.
The country wellbred think his freethinking
part Yankee heresy part Darwin balderdash,
but in any case, a gloom affected,
poor fellow he’s lost it if he ever had it,
so low of birth. The poor fellow’s right this minute
freewheeling, not so much thinking thinking,
wind-assailed, through Wessex, that is,
Dorset cliffs, pedalling wherever ridgecrest
permits. Alongside him, Emma, sunlit face
reflecting the red of the Cob or the strain of the hill;
she on her Grasshopper with step-through frame, garbed
in green velvet, absurd as Thomas to the town
muffling its smirk with a palm. A way to escape them,
furious whirling or allegro ma non troppo
idling: how can a born poet, a trained novelist,
not relish movable theater, this diorama-cyclorama
slash through life? He can write confident vignettes
of one instant’s glimpse sidelong from the road:
a milkmaid’s underbrush-bent bonnet,
a peddler’s back-deforming knapsack…
So: why so uncertain how Emma now feels as they peel
the landscape? Her hair horsewoman’s hair that’d stream
as she faced him obliquely (even her smile sidesaddle),
chestnut tresses tumbling crimson in day’s last good light
now pinchbeck-beneficent under that same sun,
white gold hedged in a green velvet hat…
From her who was once all richness and laughter, barely
a blurt pert breathless retort. Should he,
though then so young, his frame capable
of nothing not found on a spectrum from glint to gleam
to glow, not have reflected: What is it to be a ripe red
cob under a grasshopper’s legs, the brimful kernels
clean white, the grasshopper’s thousand
thousand cousins coming Who knows when
to devour?
_______________________
Thanks, Tom! The saga will continue...
This weekend:
•••Friday (1/26), 7 PM: Stockton Youth Advisory Commissioners (YAC) are sponsoring “By Word of Mouth”, an open mic for teens; others are most welcome to come out and support. Podesto IMPACT Teen Center, 725 N. El Dorado St., Stockton. Cost is $3. Poets interested in performing should e-mail lorienelms89@yahoo.com
•••Saturday (1/27), 9 PM: "The Show" Poetry Series features Ike Torres (Sac slam team), Izreal, and Damnyo Lee (L.A. slam team). Wo'se Community Center, 2863 35th St. (off 35th & Broadway). $5. Info: T.Mo at 916-455-POET.
•••Also, Saturday (1/27) is the deadline for Harvest International, an annual arts and literature magazine produced by Cal Poly Pomona. They’re looking for poetry, Short Poetry Fiction, Drama, Song Lyrics, Personal Essays, Analytical/Critical Essays, and Artwork (pen or ink drawings; no color artwork, please). See last Monday's post (1/22) for details.
•••Sunday (1/28), 2-4 PM, hear frank andrick host The Pomo Literati (KUSF, 90.3 FM). Special guests: Beth Lisick, Michelle Tea, Tara Jepsen, Becca Costello, Rachel Leibrock, Rachel Gregg, Rachel Savage. Pre-recorded works include Patti Smith reading Television, Hannah Marcus, The Glove (robert smith), Allen Ginsberg, Mirah, Kristen Hersh, William Burroughs, Edie Lambert, Germ ‘n’ frank, Lisa Gerrard, David Houston, The Haints and more. Hosted by frank andrick, co-hosted and engineered by Jim ‘The Germ’ Smith. The Pomo Literati is part of the KUSF Spotlight series. Also on the global airwaves at www.live365.com/stations/kusf. Questions? fandrickfabpub@hotmail.com or 209-727-5179.
Coming up February 1:
•••Call for Submissions: Salem College Center for Women Writers (but men can submit too): 2007 National Literary Awards, deadline February 1, 2007. Includes:
Reynolds Price Short Fiction Award
for a single short story up to 5000 words
Judge: Pinckney Benedict
Rita Dove Poetry Award
for a poem up to 100 lines (up to 2 poems per submission, any style)
Judge: Beth Ann Fennelly
Penelope Niven Creative Nonfiction Award
for a single piece of creative nonfiction, including personal essay
and memoir, up to 5000 words
Judge: Emily Herring Wilson
The winner in each genre will receive $1000 plus round trip travel and lodging for a reading of his/her work at Salem College. The two honorable mentions named in each genre will receive $100. Competitions are open to anyone living in the U.S. and writing in English except Salem Academy & College employees and students. All submissions must be unpublished. Postmark deadline: February 1, 2007. Winners will be announced by May 1, 2007. For submissions guidelines, a list of frequently asked questions, or information on our creative writing major, please visit http://www.salem.edu/go/cww/
•••Call for Submissions: The Bellevue Literary Review seeks fiction, non-fiction and poetry on the theme of Aging (something Medusa knows nothing about, being, of course, ageless). Up to 3 poems or 5,000 words. Submit at: www.blreview.org
Deadline: February 1, 2007.
_______________________
Yesterday we mentioned that both Philip Levine and Edgar Allan Poe had birthdays this month which we failed to acknowledge. Here's a poem that solves that. Well, sort of:
ON THE EDGE
—Philip Levine
My name is Edgar Poe and I was born
In 1928 in Michigan.
Nobody gave a damn. The gruel I ate
kept me alive, nothing kept me warm,
But I grew up, almost to five foot ten,
And nothing in the world can change my weight.
I have been watching you these many years,
There in the office, pencil poised and ready,
Or on the highway when you went ahead.
I did not write; I watched you watch the stars
Believing that the wheel of fate was steady;
I saw you rise from love and go to bed;
I heard you lie, even to your daughter.
I did not write, for I am Edgar Poe,
Edgar the mad one, silly, drunk, unwise,
But Edgar waiting on the edge of laughter,
And there is nothing that he does not know
Whose page is blanker than the raining skies.
_______________________
Thanks, Phil!
—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.)
