Wednesday, December 12, 2007

This Unkneeling Flame

Photo by Jane Blue, Sacramento

—Kenneth Patchen

Flowers! My friend, be delighted with what you like; but with something.

Be delighted with something. Yesterday for me it was watching sun on stones; wet stones.

I spent the morning lost in the wonder of that. A delight of god's size.

The gods never saw anything more enchanting than that. Gorgeous! the sun on wet stones.

But today what delights me is thinking of the bluepink flowers! Not that I've seen any....

Actually there isn't a flower of any kind in the house—except in my head.

But, my friend, o my friend! what wonderful bluepink flowers! Delight in my bluepink flowers!


Thanks, Jane, for the photo (and the bluepink flowers!). Tonight The Snake is proud to announce the release of Metamorphic Intervals From The Insanity Of Time, a SnakeRings SpiralChap from Patricia D'Alessandro; Notes From The Ivory Tower, a littlesnake broadside from Sacramento's Ann Wehrman; and a brand new issue of Rattlesnake Review (#16), which includes more photos from fine poets such as Jane Blue. Come celebrate all of these tonight at 7:30 PM at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sacramento. Refreshments and a read-around will follow; bring your own poems or somebody else's.


—Kenneth Patchen

The stars go to sleep so peacefully...
Their high gentle eyes closing like white flowers
In a child's dream of paradise.

With the morning, in house after grim house,
In a haste of money, proper to kiss their war,
These noble little fools awake.

O the soul of the world is dead...
Truth rots in a bloody ditch;
And love is impaled on a million bayonets

But great God! the stars go to sleep so peacefully


—Kenneth Patchen

You briing me Ocean Star a dreaming Song
that shakes the Bones of Apples
and makes a Church in this Snake's Head

—above the living—irrecoverably
a Bright Heart Goes Down—but every
Sign from Thee is beautiful O I love

this weary little rain—
the sadness of knees—O are ye in love with
brown woods and the silver tinkle
of evening birds? (Immortal? why
yes! A thinking book on a white table.
O Death must be this little girl
purshing her blue cart into the water.
O all Life must be this crowd of kids
watching a hummingbird fly around itself.)
And there is an Ear. And a Golden Heart.
And This Unclosing Eye.

There is a man wading in the river...
A woman baking little cakes...
There is a village we will come to—
O there are arms for us!
A tree of remembering stars—
There is This Unkneeling Flame—

This sudden beautiful excitement—
O have ye buckets great enough
to catch so much Wonder in!



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 (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.) Medusa cannot vouch for the moral fiber of other publications, contests, etc. that she lists, however, so submit to them at your own risk. For more info about the Snake Empire, including guidelines for submitting to or obtaining our publications, click on the link to the right of this column: Rattlesnake Press (