Lichen
Photo by Katy Brown, Davis
WAXWINGS
—Robert Francis
Four Tao philosophers as cedar waxwings
chat on a February berrybush
in sun, and I am one.
Such merriment and such sobriety—
the small wild fruit on the tall stalk—
was this not always my true style?
Above an elegance of snow, beneath
a silk-blue sky a brotherhood of four
birds. Can you mistake us?
To sun, to feast, and to converse
and all together—for this I have abandoned
all my other lives.
________________________
What's up with the Snake? Mid-month bulletin:
•••Brigit Truex's new rattlechap, A Counterpane Without, is now available at The Book Collector; pick one up there for $5 or send me $6 and I'll mail you one. On March 14, we shall celebrate the release of Skin Stretched Around the Hollow by Steve Williams; more about that later.
•••Wendy Patrice Williams' new littlesnake broadside, I Brake for Wildflowers, is available for free at The Book Collector or send me an SASE and I'll mail you one. March's littlesnake broadside will feature Sacramentan Brad Buchanan.
•••The new issue of Snakelets, the journal of poetry from youngsters ages 0-12, is available for free at The Book Collector. Next deadline is MAY 1.
•••Deadline for VYPER, the journal of poetry from people 13-19, is MARCH 1! Send me poems, photos, art. There are still some copies of the last issue available for free at The Book Collector.
•••The deadline for our flagship Rattlesnake Review has just passed, and the last of the acceptance letters will go out today. This will be another stellar issue, with lots of poetry, interviews of Todd Cirillo and D.R. Wagner, reviews, and the usual chicanery from our columnists-in-residence. Watch for it to appear (free) at The Book Collector; debut is at the March 14 rattle-read. Next RR deadline is May 15. There are still some copies of the last issue available at... you guessed it... The Book Collector.
•••Medusa's Kitchen always has room for your poetry, art and photos; no deadlines, just keep feeding them gluttonous snakes. Lately we've been posting a visual a day, so send those along, too! The varmints of Medusa are always hungry..............
•••Save the date! April 11 is the Snake's third birthday, and we're having a party at The Book Collector with all the attendant hoopla, including a buffet, a reading/release of a new spiralchap of poetry and art by D.R. Wagner, and a littlesnake broadside by Ann Menebroker to celebrate the launch of B.L. Kennedy's new Rattlesnake Interview Series (Annie is #1). More about that later, too.
_______________________
THE UNKNOWN CITIZEN
—W. H. Auden
(To JS/07 M 378
This Marble Monument
Is Erected by the State)
He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be
One against whom there was no official complaint,
And all the reports on his conduct agree
That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a saint,
For in everything he did he served the Greater Community.
Except for the War till the day he retired
He worked in a factory and never got fired,
But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc.
Yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views,
For his Union reports that he paid his dues,
(Our report on his Union shows it was sound)
And our Social Psychology workers found
That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink.
The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day
And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way.
Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured,
And his Health-card shows he was once in a hospital but left it cured.
Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare
He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Instalment Plan
And had everything necessary to the Modern Man,
A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire.
Our researchers into Public Opinion are content
That he held the proper opinions for the time of year;
When there was peace, he was for peace: when there was war, he went.
He was married and added five children to the population,
Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation.
And our teachers report that he never interfered with their education.
Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd:
Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.
_______________________
Today W. H. Auden would've been 100 years old.
LITTLE EXERCISE
—Elizabeth Bishop
Think of the storm roaming the sky uneasily
like a dog looking for a place to sleep in,
listen to it growling.
Think how they must look now, the mangrove keys
lying out there unresponsive to the lightning
in dark, coarse-fibred families,
where occasionally a heron may undo his head,
shake up his feathers, make an uncertain comment
when the surrounding water shines.
Think of the boulevard and the little palm trees
all stuck in rows, suddenly revealed
as fistfuls of limp fish-skeletons.
It is raining there. The boulevard
and its broken sidewalks with weeds in every crack,
are relieved to be wet, the sea to be freshened.
Now the storm goes away again in a series
of small, badly lit battle-scenes,
each in "Another part of the field."
Think of someone sleeping in the bottom of a row-boat
tied to a mangrove root or the pile of a bridge;
think of him as uninjured, barely disturbed.
__________________________
There's a storm headed our way; may you sleep, undisturbed, in the bottom of your boat.
—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 (or snail ‘em to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726) 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.)
Photo by Katy Brown, Davis
WAXWINGS
—Robert Francis
Four Tao philosophers as cedar waxwings
chat on a February berrybush
in sun, and I am one.
Such merriment and such sobriety—
the small wild fruit on the tall stalk—
was this not always my true style?
Above an elegance of snow, beneath
a silk-blue sky a brotherhood of four
birds. Can you mistake us?
To sun, to feast, and to converse
and all together—for this I have abandoned
all my other lives.
________________________
What's up with the Snake? Mid-month bulletin:
•••Brigit Truex's new rattlechap, A Counterpane Without, is now available at The Book Collector; pick one up there for $5 or send me $6 and I'll mail you one. On March 14, we shall celebrate the release of Skin Stretched Around the Hollow by Steve Williams; more about that later.
•••Wendy Patrice Williams' new littlesnake broadside, I Brake for Wildflowers, is available for free at The Book Collector or send me an SASE and I'll mail you one. March's littlesnake broadside will feature Sacramentan Brad Buchanan.
•••The new issue of Snakelets, the journal of poetry from youngsters ages 0-12, is available for free at The Book Collector. Next deadline is MAY 1.
•••Deadline for VYPER, the journal of poetry from people 13-19, is MARCH 1! Send me poems, photos, art. There are still some copies of the last issue available for free at The Book Collector.
•••The deadline for our flagship Rattlesnake Review has just passed, and the last of the acceptance letters will go out today. This will be another stellar issue, with lots of poetry, interviews of Todd Cirillo and D.R. Wagner, reviews, and the usual chicanery from our columnists-in-residence. Watch for it to appear (free) at The Book Collector; debut is at the March 14 rattle-read. Next RR deadline is May 15. There are still some copies of the last issue available at... you guessed it... The Book Collector.
•••Medusa's Kitchen always has room for your poetry, art and photos; no deadlines, just keep feeding them gluttonous snakes. Lately we've been posting a visual a day, so send those along, too! The varmints of Medusa are always hungry..............
•••Save the date! April 11 is the Snake's third birthday, and we're having a party at The Book Collector with all the attendant hoopla, including a buffet, a reading/release of a new spiralchap of poetry and art by D.R. Wagner, and a littlesnake broadside by Ann Menebroker to celebrate the launch of B.L. Kennedy's new Rattlesnake Interview Series (Annie is #1). More about that later, too.
_______________________
THE UNKNOWN CITIZEN
—W. H. Auden
(To JS/07 M 378
This Marble Monument
Is Erected by the State)
He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be
One against whom there was no official complaint,
And all the reports on his conduct agree
That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a saint,
For in everything he did he served the Greater Community.
Except for the War till the day he retired
He worked in a factory and never got fired,
But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc.
Yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views,
For his Union reports that he paid his dues,
(Our report on his Union shows it was sound)
And our Social Psychology workers found
That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink.
The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day
And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way.
Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured,
And his Health-card shows he was once in a hospital but left it cured.
Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare
He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Instalment Plan
And had everything necessary to the Modern Man,
A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire.
Our researchers into Public Opinion are content
That he held the proper opinions for the time of year;
When there was peace, he was for peace: when there was war, he went.
He was married and added five children to the population,
Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation.
And our teachers report that he never interfered with their education.
Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd:
Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.
_______________________
Today W. H. Auden would've been 100 years old.
LITTLE EXERCISE
—Elizabeth Bishop
Think of the storm roaming the sky uneasily
like a dog looking for a place to sleep in,
listen to it growling.
Think how they must look now, the mangrove keys
lying out there unresponsive to the lightning
in dark, coarse-fibred families,
where occasionally a heron may undo his head,
shake up his feathers, make an uncertain comment
when the surrounding water shines.
Think of the boulevard and the little palm trees
all stuck in rows, suddenly revealed
as fistfuls of limp fish-skeletons.
It is raining there. The boulevard
and its broken sidewalks with weeds in every crack,
are relieved to be wet, the sea to be freshened.
Now the storm goes away again in a series
of small, badly lit battle-scenes,
each in "Another part of the field."
Think of someone sleeping in the bottom of a row-boat
tied to a mangrove root or the pile of a bridge;
think of him as uninjured, barely disturbed.
__________________________
There's a storm headed our way; may you sleep, undisturbed, in the bottom of your boat.
—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 (or snail ‘em to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726) 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.)