Phil Weidman, Annie Menebroker, DR Wagner The Book Collector, 2007
HORSES AT THE EDGE OF THE SEA
—D.R. Wagner, Elk Grove
The horizon is far away, a sullen
Fog, a brooding and endless grey,
Begrudging the evening light,
Holding it for minutes then allowing
A spot of sun, red light on waves. It dapples
The hides of the horses, then quickly
Excuses itself and wanders up to the sand cliffs and gets lost
In the canyon leading to the water.
There is a stillness to all this.
The sound of air in and out
Of horse nostrils. A shiver
Across the back, small pawing
On the sand.
Somewhere a bird knows something
About all of this and makes its special noise.
Eyes roll toward the sound then back
To the edge of the water.
The horses are seemingly doing nothing.
They have come down here for the evening, as
We do, without expectations or purpose
Beyond just being there at that moment.
We watch them grow darker in the fading
Light until they are shadow forms against
A sea moving back and forth on the edge.
Now there is land. Now there is water.
Now there is light. Now there are horses.
Now there is nothing to see.
—D.R. Wagner, Elk Grove
The horizon is far away, a sullen
Fog, a brooding and endless grey,
Begrudging the evening light,
Holding it for minutes then allowing
A spot of sun, red light on waves. It dapples
The hides of the horses, then quickly
Excuses itself and wanders up to the sand cliffs and gets lost
In the canyon leading to the water.
There is a stillness to all this.
The sound of air in and out
Of horse nostrils. A shiver
Across the back, small pawing
On the sand.
Somewhere a bird knows something
About all of this and makes its special noise.
Eyes roll toward the sound then back
To the edge of the water.
The horses are seemingly doing nothing.
They have come down here for the evening, as
We do, without expectations or purpose
Beyond just being there at that moment.
We watch them grow darker in the fading
Light until they are shadow forms against
A sea moving back and forth on the edge.
Now there is land. Now there is water.
Now there is light. Now there are horses.
Now there is nothing to see.
There's nothing sadder than a good book out of print! Join us at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sacramento, this coming Wednesday, February 11 at 7:30 PM for the inauguration of a new Rattlesnake Press series, Rattlesnake Reprints. Our first offering will be The Dimensions of the Morning by D.R. Wagner, which was first published by Tom Kryss and Black Rabbit Press in 1969. We have reproduced it pretty much exactly as it was first printed, a charming product of the Mimeograph Revolution. On Wednesday, DR will read briefly, along with Julia Connor and Josh Fernandez, both of whom will also be presenting new works. Be there!
D.R. Wagner is the author of over 20 books and chapbooks of poetry and letters. He founded press : today : Niagara and Runcible Spoon (press) in the late 1960’s and produced over fifty magazines and chapbooks. His work is much-published and has appeared in many translations. He is also a visual artist, producing miniature needle-made tapestries that have been exhibited internationally and are included in numerous publications. He is, further, a professional musician, working as a singer-songwriter and playing guitar and keyboards. He has taught Design at the University of California at Davis for almost twenty years. In 2007, DR published Where The Stars Are Kept for Rattlesnake Press, a SnakeRing SpiralChap of his poetry and tapestries. For more of his work, go to his page on rattlesnakepress.com (click on SnakeRing SpiralChaps in the menu), or to his feature on Medusa's Kitchen (go to October 2008 in the archives and scroll down to Oct. 13). Here is a poem from Where the Stars Are Kept:
THE MILKY WAY
—D.R. Wagner
We live in a spiral arm of a spinning
Field of stars, we whirl around, a carnival
Ride, full of birds, loves, emotions, endless
Varieties of things unfolding in seasons;
Full of bells and an endless weaving of hearts.
These connections ride upon our consciousness,
Demanding constant performance from us.
Each of us, most royal and majestic as night,
Vile, vindictive and spoiled even before we speak;
Sorrow and joy, the way we sound our name.
We endure all of this, our lips kissing each moment,
Crushed, elated, misunderstood, praised for things
We do as part of ourselves, damned for these same things.
There is no road, there is no plan. Only love
Survives.
Everything is forgiven, finally.
Understanding limps behind the parade,
Always late, always burdened with qualifications,
Always abandoning every opinion and argument,
Leaving each of us our place only, describing
This place, the swirling arms, the myriad ways
We twist ourselves to achieve
This weaving, this carnival of love.
__________________
Thanks, D.R., for playing along with our new Snake project, the reprints. There's nothing sadder than a good book out of print!
Today's photo is one of my favorites: three good friends of mine, a triumverate of outstanding poets from our area! Annie Menebroker published her delectable Small Crimes for Rattlesnake Press in 2007 and was featured on Medusa on March 30 of that year. Phil Weidman was featured on Medusa shortly before her, on March 22, 2007; in 2006, we published his Fictional Character: The Ernie Poems. See more of both of their work on rattlesnakepress.com (Rattlechaps page). Snake works by all three of these stunning poets are available at The Book Collector or at rattlesnakepress.com, or from the authors.
Here are three new poems from Phil Weidman. (I notice that several of today's poems are about the night; don't forget our Seed of the Week: Nocturnes.)
JUST BEFORE CHRISTMAS
—Phil Weidman, Pollock Pines
Our winter wood,
gleaned from the forest floor,
is cut, split, stacked
and covered with tarps.
A mile below us
Jenkinson Lake has receded
far below its banks,
a skeleton of its former self.
Outside the temperature
hovers below freezing.
The air is dry,
and fresh snow falls tentatively
as if unsure of its intent.
The house next to ours
and two close by
stand hollow-eyed,
driveways clogged with
un-shoveled snow.
I add more colored lights
to the string that decorates
our house and brightens
the dark hours before daylight.
___________________
DRIVING TO PLACERVILLE
—Phil Weidman
My mood rose with
the early morning sun
as it revealed the glorious
fall colors of the cottonwood,
oak and Chinese pistache
under a clear cerulean sky.
A growing feeling of serenity
sparked by light traffic
and the surrounding beauty
plummeted sharply as I passed
the crumpled body of a deer
pressed against the highway
divider, its blood drying
into an irregular stain
on the pavement.
I blessed the deer
as if I was ordained
or slightly off my rocker.
__________________
CALLING MY NAME
—Phil Weidman
Our firewood is running low.
I bundle up and push our
wheelbarrow through the snow
to the wood pile.
As I load split rounds
of cedar and oak,
I hear my name called
from far off.
As I listen, a hush falls
over the woods.
I look around.
Nothing moves.
Am I slipping a gear
or was that God calling?
I ask myself,
feeling my heart pound.
I hear my name again
and turn to see
a mere human, mini clouds
issuing from his mouth.
__________________
Today's LittleNip:
Mad with poetry,
I stride like Chikusai
into the wind.
—Basho
__________________
—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; let us know if your submission is for the Review or for Medusa, or for either one.
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!
Coming 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.)
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.......!
_________________
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.