YELLOW
—Taylor Graham, Placerville
Two bananas in a bowl,
the almanac with its cold forecast;
breakfast eggs you cooked up special
while we watch the screen
(normally dark this time of day);
dabs of yellow among reds and blues
and sober grays—how many millions?—
bundled against weather;
Michelle Obama’s dress, more muted
than her smile;
January’s chilly sun through firethorn
where birds of so many feather
come to celebrate the day.
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PRIVATE EDITION
—Taylor Graham
Put the book down. Pulp and blather.
Too many pink-flowered words
blooming like weeds out of season,
all bound in stamped leather.
No need to ponder its meaning, nor
(to quote Gray) cast one longing, lingering
look behind the metaphors.
But keep this image: an old skeptic
in shirt-sleeves scything,
bending with the measured swing
of a curved blade
cutting the verbiage,
leaving the earth shining
in sun-yellow light.
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Thanks, Taylor Graham, for helping us with our celebration of yellow this week. And thanks to Pat Hickerson for her gluttony poem which actually turns out to be about yellow, too. Pat has been systematically working her way through the sins; today's poems are about gluttony and lust. Watch for a littlesnake broadside from her in March and one from Taylor Graham in April.
Today's other poem is also a celebration of yellow, in a way. It's one of my all-time favorites, by Russell Edson, who celebrates all sorts of things in his crazy, surreal prose poetry that always wakes us up.
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MARIGOLD SALAD
—Patricia Hickerson, Davis
Yellow was my desire
and yellow it would be
yellow blending into bright orange
like sunshine that splits the clouds
and dries up the rain
a salad of marigolds
edible Signets yellow enough
to spice up the dingiest plate
and my desire would also be
to hand-pluck those sunny petals
one by one
from their honeycomb center
[curly satins tickle my tongue]
to sniff the tarragon essence of each
before tossing it into the bowl
along with leaves of lemony lace
their sour-soft fragrance startles me
the yellow of a burst-blossom afternoon
flowers into the orange of twilight—
O Golden Gem!
O Lemon Gem!
cool and shy to the taste!
Marigolden pumps up any Spring day
after the rain
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WE RETURN TO THAT STREET
—Patricia Hickerson
Under my breath
in a corner of my odd-angled heart
again we leave the ghost place on W. 7th St.
we walk out to the fringe of the city
much of the long night
still left to us
the cracked sidewalks
the weedy glass-littered lots
arm in arm
your wasted bone scrapes my withered flesh
we sit at the hamburger counter, remember
how our bellies were once hot with hunger?
then back to the Pack Train Hotel
up the broad wooden staircase
its hollowed steps heave and squawk
under our clanked feet
you stand in the doorway
your sharp-jointed finger at your disappeared lips
shhhh...
before we turn into the $2 room-for-a-night
to resume our sacred rituals:
dry lick
dead stick
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THE TAXI
—Russell Edson
One night in the dark I phone for a taxi. Immediately a taxi crashes through the wall; never mind that my room is on the third floor, or that the yellow driver is really a cluster of canaries arranged in the shape of a driver, who flutters apart, streaming from the windows of the taxi in yellow fountains...
Realizing that I am in the midst of something splendid I reach for the phone and cancel the taxi: All the canaries flow back into the taxi and assemble themselves into a cluster shaped like a man. The taxi backs through the wall, and the wall repairs...
But I cannot stop what is happening, I am already reaching for the phone to call a taxi, which is already beginning to crash through the wall with its yellow driver already beginning to flutter apart...
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Today's LittleNip:
Yellow light through the pine trees—the road bends and climbs but still no end in sight.
—Stephen Dobyns
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—Medusa
SnakeWatch: What's New from Rattlesnake Press:
Rattlesnake Review: The latest issue (#20) is currently available at The Book Collector, or send me two bux and I'll mail you one. Deadline for RR21 is February 15: send 3-5 poems, smallish art pieces and/or photos (no bio, no cover letter, no simultaneous submissions or previously-published poems) to kathykieth@hotmail.com or P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. E-mail attachments are preferred, but be sure to include all contact info, including snail address. Meanwhile, the snakes of Medusa are always hungry!
Coming in January: Other than the ever-restless Medusa, the Snake will be snoozing during January; no releases or readings.
Then, in February: On Weds., February 11, Rattlesnake Press will be releasing a new rattlechap from Sacramento's Poet Laureate, Julia Connor (Oar); a littlesnake broadside from Josh Fernandez (In The End, It’s A Worthless Machine); and the premiere of our new Rattlesnake Reprints, featuring The Dimensions of the Morning by D.R. Wagner, which was first published by Black Rabbit Press in 1969. That’s February 11 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.
And on February 19, the premiere of our new, free Poetry Unplugged quarterly, WTF, edited by frank andrick, will be celebrated at Luna's Cafe, 1414 16th St., Sacramento, 8 PM. (For those of you just tuning in, Poetry Unplugged is the long-running reading series at Luna's Cafe.)
Also available (free): littlesnake broadside #46: Snake Secrets: Getting Your Poetry Published in Rattlesnake Press (and lots of other places, besides!): A compendium of ideas for brushing up on your submissions process so as to make editors everywhere more happy, thereby increasing the likelihood of getting your poetry published. Pick up a copy at The Book Collector or write to me and I'll send you one. Free!
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 SOWs; 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, or any other day!): 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.