Photo by D.R. Wagner, Elk Grove
NIECE
—George Oppen
The streets of San Francisco,
She said of herself, were my
Father and mother, speaking to the quiet guests
In the living room looking down the hills
To the bay. And we imagined her
Walking in the wooden past
Of the western city. . . her mother
Was not that city
But my elder sister. I remembered
The watchman at the beach
Telling us the war had ended—
That was the first world war
Half a century ago—my sister
Had a ribbon in her hair.
__________________
MOTHERING MY SISTER
(to Jenny)
—Patricia Heinicke, Sacramento
I remember a bassinet woven
from balsa the color of papyrus
to cup, to gently rock, to drift—
a bassinet
with you inside
your back as wide
as the height of my small hand.
That first of your summers
sometimes I held you in my kindergarten arms.
When you were lifted away, refusing all comfort,
I lay awake, fearing spiders in your crib and
wanting again that agreeable ache high on my bicep
where your head lay.
***
Now, again, my fingers fathom your face,
around your eyes, deep as matins,
making ointment of your tears.
Soon another bassinet will drift
into this flood and yet I remember
that pale vessel, with you inside—
who will always fit my hands,
your disconsolate cries ever haunting
my dreams.
___________________
WINNIE THE POOH
—Mitz Sackman, Murphys
I have dusty memories
Finding Winnie the Pooh
Visiting a used book store
With Mom
That always had
A nose-tickling odor
We were living in San Pablo
Where I lived from most of
Age three
Through going to first grade
A quiet neighborhood
With lots of other kids
One Saturday
We went to a bigger town
Went to Berkeley to shop
Through an old book store
Looking through
Some one else’s former treasure
Found one of our own
An old red book
Of Winnie the Pooh stories
Written by a father
For his son
Nearly a half-century before
Mom read the stories to us
Steve, Jackie, Tim and me
At bedtime
—George Oppen
The streets of San Francisco,
She said of herself, were my
Father and mother, speaking to the quiet guests
In the living room looking down the hills
To the bay. And we imagined her
Walking in the wooden past
Of the western city. . . her mother
Was not that city
But my elder sister. I remembered
The watchman at the beach
Telling us the war had ended—
That was the first world war
Half a century ago—my sister
Had a ribbon in her hair.
__________________
MOTHERING MY SISTER
(to Jenny)
—Patricia Heinicke, Sacramento
I remember a bassinet woven
from balsa the color of papyrus
to cup, to gently rock, to drift—
a bassinet
with you inside
your back as wide
as the height of my small hand.
That first of your summers
sometimes I held you in my kindergarten arms.
When you were lifted away, refusing all comfort,
I lay awake, fearing spiders in your crib and
wanting again that agreeable ache high on my bicep
where your head lay.
***
Now, again, my fingers fathom your face,
around your eyes, deep as matins,
making ointment of your tears.
Soon another bassinet will drift
into this flood and yet I remember
that pale vessel, with you inside—
who will always fit my hands,
your disconsolate cries ever haunting
my dreams.
___________________
WINNIE THE POOH
—Mitz Sackman, Murphys
I have dusty memories
Finding Winnie the Pooh
Visiting a used book store
With Mom
That always had
A nose-tickling odor
We were living in San Pablo
Where I lived from most of
Age three
Through going to first grade
A quiet neighborhood
With lots of other kids
One Saturday
We went to a bigger town
Went to Berkeley to shop
Through an old book store
Looking through
Some one else’s former treasure
Found one of our own
An old red book
Of Winnie the Pooh stories
Written by a father
For his son
Nearly a half-century before
Mom read the stories to us
Steve, Jackie, Tim and me
At bedtime
__________________
KITH, BUT PERHAPS NOT KIN
—Kevin Jones, Fair Oaks
My grandmother
Was an only child.
My mother
Was an only child.
I am
An only child.
At least
That’s what
My evil twin tells me.
_________________
THE THREE LANGUAGES
(after the Brothers Grimm)
—Taylor Graham, Placerville
If all you learn in one year is Dog-talk,
and all you learn in the next is Bird-song,
and the third year is only Frog-lament,
of course no one will understand you.
You’ll be thrown out of the house
of Humankind; disinherited, wandering
among wild creatures, forest-folk
who keep their own words
for the treasure of this green, ensorceled
world: fields before the fall
of asphalt, snow-melt rivers unslicked
by oil, air with no combusted stain.
At last, can you come back to teach
your human brothers and sisters even one
of those three tongues?
—Kevin Jones, Fair Oaks
My grandmother
Was an only child.
My mother
Was an only child.
I am
An only child.
At least
That’s what
My evil twin tells me.
_________________
THE THREE LANGUAGES
(after the Brothers Grimm)
—Taylor Graham, Placerville
If all you learn in one year is Dog-talk,
and all you learn in the next is Bird-song,
and the third year is only Frog-lament,
of course no one will understand you.
You’ll be thrown out of the house
of Humankind; disinherited, wandering
among wild creatures, forest-folk
who keep their own words
for the treasure of this green, ensorceled
world: fields before the fall
of asphalt, snow-melt rivers unslicked
by oil, air with no combusted stain.
At last, can you come back to teach
your human brothers and sisters even one
of those three tongues?
_________________
Photo by D.R. Wagner
_________________
Today's LittleNip:
The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible.
—Vladimir Nabokov
_________________
—Medusa
SnakeWatch: What's New from Rattlesnake Press:
Rattlesnake Review: The latest Snake (RR21) is now available (free) at The Book Collector, or send me four bux and I'll mail you one. Next deadline is May 15 for RR22: 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, and please—only one submission per issue.
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!
NEW FOR APRIL: A SpiralChap of poetry and photos from Laverne Frith (Celebrations: Images and Texts); a (free!) littlesnake broadside from Taylor Graham (Edge of Wildwood); and Musings3: An English Affair, a new blank journal of photos and writing prompts from Katy Brown. Now available from the authors, or The Book Collector, or (soon) rattlesnakepress.com/.
April 15 was the deadline for the second issue of WTF, the free quarterly journal from Poetry Unplugged at Luna's Cafe that is edited by frank andrick. Submission guidelines are the same as for the Snake, but send your poems, photos, smallish art or prose pieces (500 words or less) to fandrickfabpub@hotmail.com (attachments preferred) or, if you’re snailing, to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726. And be forewarned: this publication is for adults only, so you must be over 18 years of age to submit. Copies of the first issue are at The Book Collector, or send me two bux and I'll mail you one. Next deadline, for issue #3, is July 15.
COMING IN MAY: Join us Weds., May 13 for a new rattlechap, Sinfonietta, from Tom Goff; Vol. 5 of Conversations, the Rattlesnake Interview Series by B.L. Kennedy; and the inauguration of a new series, Rattlesnake LittleBooks, with Shorts: Quatrains and Epigrams by Iven Lourie. That’s at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sacramento, 7:30 PM. 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.......!
_________________
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.
