Tim Bellows
IN SILVER — THOUGHTS. NIGHT RUNNING, RENO HILLS
—Tim Bellows, Gold River
sun — thick, sweet orange — has gone down
back of the frozen-black forest. brightness
of night planets comes on — pearls
trembling to ignite. dark trees,
edge of the field. branches
reach in air fit for dreaming. alders
embrace their own stillness and root down
to the black shine of water a mile deep.
I could grunt out notes jarred by footfall in this
striding out — no end in sight, my feet splashing snow,
my crown reaching into dark stars they say
bend light far away. into the silver-white quiet
of optimistic stars. into their happy plans for us all.
_______________________
Thanks, Tim! Tim Bellows writes: I’m a Writing Teacher and Poet devoted to wilderness and contemplative travels. A graduate of the Iowa Writers' Workshop, I’ve published work in over 200 literary journals and in A Racing Up the Sky (Eclectic Press) and in Sunlight from Another Day — Poems In & Out of the Body (AuthorHouse). And I managed to earn two nominations for the Annual Pushcart Prize. I teach college English in Northern California, and continue to string words together and publish around the country. My poems appear in the Desert Wood anthology (University of Nevada Press), two issues of Midwest Quarterly, three issues of Modern Haiku, and other periodicals such as Interim, Embers, Wisconsin Review, Damaged Wine, The Small Pond Magazine, Portlandia Review, South Coast Poetry Journal, Phoebe, CQ, and Potomac Review. I’m also a contributing author to Angel Cats: Divine Messengers of Comfort (now in its fourth printing), and editor and founder of Lightship News for poets/writers — tips and insights on the divine dimension of word-craft. (Subscribe through sky999.blogspot.com). Also see golden.timbellows.com. If you’re “an unabashedly spiritual poet in an increasingly cynical world” (Todd Temkin), this is your site.
_______________________
•••Tonight (2/16), 7 PM: Our House will feature William O'Daly, reading poems by Pablo Neruda as well as his own. O'Daly's latest book of Neruda translations, Still Another Day, was a finalist for a 2006 Quill Award. An open mic follows; there is no charge. Our House Gallery & Framing is located at 4510 Post St. in El Dorado Hills Town Center; take the Latrobe exit south and turn left into the shopping center.
•••Saturday (2/17), 7-9:30 PM, attend a Black History Month celebration: "The Main Event" features the Black Men Expressing Tour, "Brothas to the Sistas" love poetry reading, poets Ranon Maddox, Ike Torrez, Ashleigh Schweitzer, Frank Withrow and He Spit Fire, plus a dance performance and gospel music with Vadia Hubbard and Yardley Griffin Jr. Guild Theater, 2828 35th St., Sac. $10. 916-455-7638.
•••Monday (2/19), there will be no reading at the Sacramento Poetry Center, due to Presidents' Day.
________________________
NOVEMBER RAIN,
something nudging me
in a short, light sleep. where we
meet under white sky. ah, the flash
of poses and signals from the final bird,
standing straight and yellow, flexing legs,
raising wings—indications
of our last easy breath and flight
as the whole flock of us
leaves the sharply angled branches,
rises and peers all around the sky,
making discourse and good gossip.
the gods between somewhere and nowhere
have gone back into their blue mountains.
we’re their outriders, without friend or society.
only our sweet phantoms of affection
keep company. we watch for all things
disincarnate, rushing up
over the western ridge, stampeding
along the icy tops of clouds.
in a short, light sleep
—Tim Bellows
______________________
FOUR A.M. AGAIN
—Tim Bellows
Something nudging me, white light in the end
of sleep. Sheets no longer holding me under their lost
white skies. Here I am, signaling earth’s last bird
as he stands, straight and yellow on his sharp-angled,
dusky branch. Yes, I have something to say!
About primitive times to come. The amber light
of dream-and-wake prompts me to explain how
even the sun cannot live forever. How the moon’s
to be eaten by soil-scooping, dinosaur-large machines.
Finally I give my talk. Oops—auditorium only of echoes,
but I’m saying I will live in the now-time that never runs out,
time of a sky-gliding hawk that moves; that never moves.
I prophesy myself prompted to happy ways, standing in one spot,
scrubbing out pots. All is well. Busboys jack around like
so many rooks, pile dishes in my metal sink. I scrub
in service to the wider knowledge of hawk and grebe.
Their sightlines nudging me to wrestle the pots clean—
my hands and arms covered with ridiculous suds.
Oh well, what am I worth? I’d
scrub pots clean in every diner in the world.
_______________________
Thanks again, Tim! Watch for more of Tim's work in the next issue of Rattlesnake Review (Lucky 13!), due out in March. (Did you make the deadline yesterday? If not, throw yourself on Medusa's mercy and get it in NOW!)
_______________________
—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.)
IN SILVER — THOUGHTS. NIGHT RUNNING, RENO HILLS
—Tim Bellows, Gold River
sun — thick, sweet orange — has gone down
back of the frozen-black forest. brightness
of night planets comes on — pearls
trembling to ignite. dark trees,
edge of the field. branches
reach in air fit for dreaming. alders
embrace their own stillness and root down
to the black shine of water a mile deep.
I could grunt out notes jarred by footfall in this
striding out — no end in sight, my feet splashing snow,
my crown reaching into dark stars they say
bend light far away. into the silver-white quiet
of optimistic stars. into their happy plans for us all.
_______________________
Thanks, Tim! Tim Bellows writes: I’m a Writing Teacher and Poet devoted to wilderness and contemplative travels. A graduate of the Iowa Writers' Workshop, I’ve published work in over 200 literary journals and in A Racing Up the Sky (Eclectic Press) and in Sunlight from Another Day — Poems In & Out of the Body (AuthorHouse). And I managed to earn two nominations for the Annual Pushcart Prize. I teach college English in Northern California, and continue to string words together and publish around the country. My poems appear in the Desert Wood anthology (University of Nevada Press), two issues of Midwest Quarterly, three issues of Modern Haiku, and other periodicals such as Interim, Embers, Wisconsin Review, Damaged Wine, The Small Pond Magazine, Portlandia Review, South Coast Poetry Journal, Phoebe, CQ, and Potomac Review. I’m also a contributing author to Angel Cats: Divine Messengers of Comfort (now in its fourth printing), and editor and founder of Lightship News for poets/writers — tips and insights on the divine dimension of word-craft. (Subscribe through sky999.blogspot.com). Also see golden.timbellows.com. If you’re “an unabashedly spiritual poet in an increasingly cynical world” (Todd Temkin), this is your site.
_______________________
•••Tonight (2/16), 7 PM: Our House will feature William O'Daly, reading poems by Pablo Neruda as well as his own. O'Daly's latest book of Neruda translations, Still Another Day, was a finalist for a 2006 Quill Award. An open mic follows; there is no charge. Our House Gallery & Framing is located at 4510 Post St. in El Dorado Hills Town Center; take the Latrobe exit south and turn left into the shopping center.
•••Saturday (2/17), 7-9:30 PM, attend a Black History Month celebration: "The Main Event" features the Black Men Expressing Tour, "Brothas to the Sistas" love poetry reading, poets Ranon Maddox, Ike Torrez, Ashleigh Schweitzer, Frank Withrow and He Spit Fire, plus a dance performance and gospel music with Vadia Hubbard and Yardley Griffin Jr. Guild Theater, 2828 35th St., Sac. $10. 916-455-7638.
•••Monday (2/19), there will be no reading at the Sacramento Poetry Center, due to Presidents' Day.
________________________
NOVEMBER RAIN,
something nudging me
in a short, light sleep. where we
meet under white sky. ah, the flash
of poses and signals from the final bird,
standing straight and yellow, flexing legs,
raising wings—indications
of our last easy breath and flight
as the whole flock of us
leaves the sharply angled branches,
rises and peers all around the sky,
making discourse and good gossip.
the gods between somewhere and nowhere
have gone back into their blue mountains.
we’re their outriders, without friend or society.
only our sweet phantoms of affection
keep company. we watch for all things
disincarnate, rushing up
over the western ridge, stampeding
along the icy tops of clouds.
in a short, light sleep
—Tim Bellows
______________________
FOUR A.M. AGAIN
—Tim Bellows
Something nudging me, white light in the end
of sleep. Sheets no longer holding me under their lost
white skies. Here I am, signaling earth’s last bird
as he stands, straight and yellow on his sharp-angled,
dusky branch. Yes, I have something to say!
About primitive times to come. The amber light
of dream-and-wake prompts me to explain how
even the sun cannot live forever. How the moon’s
to be eaten by soil-scooping, dinosaur-large machines.
Finally I give my talk. Oops—auditorium only of echoes,
but I’m saying I will live in the now-time that never runs out,
time of a sky-gliding hawk that moves; that never moves.
I prophesy myself prompted to happy ways, standing in one spot,
scrubbing out pots. All is well. Busboys jack around like
so many rooks, pile dishes in my metal sink. I scrub
in service to the wider knowledge of hawk and grebe.
Their sightlines nudging me to wrestle the pots clean—
my hands and arms covered with ridiculous suds.
Oh well, what am I worth? I’d
scrub pots clean in every diner in the world.
_______________________
Thanks again, Tim! Watch for more of Tim's work in the next issue of Rattlesnake Review (Lucky 13!), due out in March. (Did you make the deadline yesterday? If not, throw yourself on Medusa's mercy and get it in NOW!)
_______________________
—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.)