Photo by Katy Brown, Davis
THE SMELL OF GASOLINE ASCENDS IN MY NOSE
—Yehuda Amichai
The smell of gasoline ascends in my nose.
Love, I'll protect you and hold you close
like an etrog in soft wool, so carefully—
my dead father used to do it that way.
Look, the olive-tree no longer grieves—
it knows there are seasons and a man must leave,
stand by my side and dry your face now
and smile as if in a family photo.
I've packed my wrinkled shirts and my trouble.
I will never forget you, girl of my final
window in front of the deserts that are
empty of windows, filled with war.
You used to laugh but now you keep quiet,
the beloved country never cries out,
the wind will rustle in the dry leaves soon—
when will I sleep beside you again?
In the earth there are raw materials that, unlike us,
have not been taken out of the darkness,
the army jet makes peace in the heavens
upon us and upon all lovers in autumn.
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Thanks, Katy, for the stunning photo of the wee doves on your back porch! Now available from Katy Brown: Musings2: Vices, Virtues and Obsessions, a blank journal collection of photos and prompts to get your muse on task. Pair it up with her Musings One, which was released last April. Both are available at The Book Collector and (soon) on rattlesnakepress.com/. Also available are Katy's perpetual calendar (A Poet's Book of Days), and, coming in November, her 2009 calendar (Beyond the Hill), both with many beautiful photos and poems to celebrate the seasons.
While you're at The Book Collector, pick up your free copy of Rattlesnake19. One of its many features is a biography of Edwin Markham from our Historian-in-Residence, Tom Goff, who sent us this response to our Seed of the Week: Dogs. Tom writes: I enjoyed seeing Jane Blue's and Taylor Graham's poems on dogs [see yesterday's post]; attached is my poor pooch of an effort, inspired by the photo of the beagle (?basset hound?) face with eyes upcast... [See Tueday's post]:
COOKIE
—Tom Goff, Carmichael
When my good beagle casts her eyes aloft,
and I glimpse white space under each large dark iris,
transfixing my vitals runs that needle, soft
and long, chilling and warming me with that virus
I know as love; I know too that redemption
which never could El Greco nor Murillo
fill dizzy saint-portrayals with, that sumptuous
writhing paint-and fainting-fit, that unction
in deep extremes, as when my Skaidra rolls
her downy orbs to her eye-heights, up at me
at pains to damp down feeling, feign ennui,
yet sense how my innards soften, wholly glow.
Dear Cookie, saintly late one, intercede:
deflect, ghost beagle, from us what stings unhived
whose bees were life now leashless, dog-deprived.
These new sweet beagle eyes have cause to plead.
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A DOG AFTER LOVE
—Yehuda Amichai
After you left me
I had a bloodhound sniff at
my chest and my belly. Let it fill its nostrils
and set out to find you.
I hope it will find you and rip
your lover's balls to shred and bite off his cock—
or at least
bring me one of your stockings between its teeth.
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GIFTS OF LOVE
—Yehuda Amichai
I gave them to you
for your earlobes, your fingers. I gilded
the time on your wrist,
I hung lots of glittery things on you
so you'd sway for me in the wind, so you'd
chime softly over me
to soothe my sleep.
I comforted you with apples, as it says
in the Song of Songs,
I lined your bed with them.
so we could roll smoothly on red apple-bearings.
I covered your skin with a pink chiffon,
transparent as baby lizards—the ones with
black diamond eyes on summer nights.
You helped me to live for a couple of months
without needing religion
or a point of view.
You gave me a letter opener made of silver.
Real letters aren't opened that way;
they're torn open,
torn, torn.
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LOVE SONG
—Yehuda Amichai
This is how it started: suddenly it felt
loose and light and happy inside,
like when you feel your shoelaces loosening a bit
and you bend down.
Then came other days.
And now I'm like a Trojan horse
filled with terrible loves.
Every night they break out and run wild
and at dawn they come back
into my dark belly.
__________________
I'VE GROWN VERY HAIRY
—Yehuda Amichai
I've grown very hairy all over my body.
I'm afraid they're going to start hunting me for my fur.
My shirt of many colors isn't a sign of love:
it's like an aerial photograph of a railroad station.
At night my body is wide open and awake under the blanket
like the blindfolded eyes of someone who's about to be shot.
I live as a fugitive and a vagabond, I'll die
hungry for more—
and I wanted to be quiet, like an ancient mound
whose cities were all destroyed,
and peaceful,
like a full cemetery.
(Today's poetry by Yehuda Amichai was translated from the Hebrew by Stephen Mitchell.)
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Today's LittleNip:
The crown of literature is poetry. It is its end and aim. It is the sublimest activity of the human mind. It is the achievement of beauty and delicacy. The writer of prose can only step aside when the poet passes.
—W. Somerset Maugham
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—Medusa
SnakeWatch: What's New from Rattlesnake Press:
Now available at The Book Collector in Sacramento, and (soon) from rattlesnakepress.com/: Thirteen Poems, a new chapbook from Patrick Grizzell; #2 in Katy Brown's series of blank journals (Musings2: Vices, Virtues and Obsessions); a free littlesnake broadside (Wind Physics) from Jordan Reynolds; plus Issue #19 of Rattlesnake Review (also free!).
Coming in October: October’s release at The Book Collector on Weds., Oct. 8, will feature a new rattlechap from Moira Magneson (He Drank Because) and a littlesnake broadside from Hatch Graham (Circling of the Pack). That's at the Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sacramento, 7:30 PM. Refreshments and a read-around will follow; bring your own poems or somebody else’s.
Then, on Thursday, Oct. 30, 8 PM, Rattlesnake Press will release two SpiralChaps to honor and celebrate Luna’s Café, including a new collection of art and poetry from B.L. Kennedy (Luna’s House of Words) and an anthology of Luna’s poets, artists and photographs (La Luna: Poetry Unplugged at Luna’s Café) edited by Frank Andrick. Come travel with our Away Team as we leave the Home of the Snake for a brief road trip/time travel to Luna’s Café, 1414 16th St., Sacramento to celebrate Art Luna and Luna's long-running poetry series. Who knows what auspicious adventures await us there?
Medusa's Weekly Menu:
(Contributors are welcome to cook up something for any and all of these!)
Monday: Weekly NorCal poetry calendar
Tuesday: Seed of the Week: Tuesday is Medusa's day to post poetry triggers such as quotes, forms, photos, memories, jokes—whatever might tickle somebody's muse. Pick up the gauntlet and send in your poetic results; and don't be shy about sending in your own triggers, too! All poems will be posted and a few of them will go into Medusa's Corner of each Rattlesnake Review. Send your work to kathykieth@hotmail.com or P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. No deadline for SOW; respond today, tomorrow, or whenever the muse arrives. (Print 'em out, maybe, save 'em for a dry spell?) When you send us work, though, just let us know which "seed" it was that inspired you.
Wednesday (sometimes): HandyStuff Quickies: Resources for the poet, including whatever helps ease the pain of writing and/or publishing: favorite journals to read and/or submit to; books, etc., about writing; organizational tools—you know—HandyStuff! Tell us about your favorite tools.
Thursday: B.L.'s Drive-Bys: Micro-reviews by our irreverent Reviewer-in-Residence, B.L. Kennedy. Send books, CDs, DVDs, etc. to him for possible review (either as a Drive-By or in future issues of Rattlesnake Review) at P.O. Box 160664, Sacramento, CA 95816.
Friday: NorCal weekend poetry calendar
Daily (except Sunday): LittleNips: SnakeFood for the Poetic Soul: Daily munchables for poetic thought, including short paragraphs, quotes, wonky words, silliness, little-known poetry/poet facts, and other inspiration—yet another way to feed our ravenous poetic souls.
And poetry! Every day, poetry from writers near and far and in-between! The Snakes of Medusa are always hungry.......!
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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.) 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 (rattlesnakepress.com). And be sure to sign up for Snakebytes, our monthly e-newsletter that will keep you up-to-date on all our ophidian chicanery.