What, Then, Stays After In The Heart?

SPRING BREAK
—Taylor Graham, Placerville

That month we left behind the rain
and foggy Rhein, and hitchhiked south—
Milano, Avignon—to Spain.
Those sunny names so sweet to mouth,
our knapsacks light, and slow the train.

That’s youth, I say, remembering
a bota filled with cheap white wine;
Toledo’s streets unraveling;
Granada’s tiles—a petaled ring
where stone and flower intertwine.

If I might bring back souvenirs,
a rucksack full of long-lost years,
would I find a black mantilla
of Spanish lace? a mask of tears,
or a reason for Quintilla?

Those Moorish gardens! History lies.
A spring-break ends as classes start
and lovers choose their ways: to part,
or just go back to grayer skies.
What, then, stays after in the heart?


(First published in Time of Singing)

___________________

Thanks, TG for the quintillas! Watch for Taylor Graham's poetry and her column, "Making Fun of Poetry", in Rattlesnake Review #23, due out in mid-September. Deadline is this Saturday, August 15, by the way! 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 add all contact info, including snail address. (More info at rattlesnakepress.com/.) And remember—only one submissions packet per quarter, please.

David Milnor writes: Please note that, according to Lewis Turco's Book of Forms (p. 228) the quintilla has six allowable rhyme schemes: ababa, abbab, ababb, abaab, aabab, and aabba. All six are represented in the six quintillas of "Poetry at a Glance" [David's poem I posted yesterday]. My bad; I only listed one of them. Thanks for the correction, David! (I see TG used four of them, herself.)

Speaking of forms, join us tonight, Weds., August 12 to celebrate Rattlesnake Press's Formalist-in-Residence Joyce Odam’s birthday month with two new chapbooks from her: Peripherals: Prose Poems by Joyce Odam (illustrated by Joyce's daughter, Charlotte Vincent) and Rattlesnake LittleBook #2 (Noir Love). That’s at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sacramento, 7:30 PM. Free!

One poem from Steve Williams, and two from Jane Blue, who's catching up with our SOW's. Note that she managed to work squid into the first one. She writes: I was a little upset that no one seemed to notice the anniversary of Hiroshima:


AUGUST 6, 2009
—Jane Blue, Sacramento

Giant squid pet the divers with their tentacles,
stare at them with their large glossy eyes.
On the counter a little cyanide almond
exposed inside the peach.

Staring at them with their large glossy eyes,
one pulls a hose from an air tank.
Cyanide exposed inside the sweet peach.
One pulls a lamp from around a diver’s head.

One pulls a hose from an air tank.
They probably don’t mean any harm.
One pulls a lamp from around a diver’s head.
They are curious, like aliens.

They probably don’t mean any harm,
walking into San Diego’s shallow waters.
The squid are just curious, like aliens.
They are us in disguise.

Walking into San Diego’s shallow waters,
the divers flop backwards.
The squid are us in disguise.
A barred spiral galaxy looks down like a bloodshot eye.

The divers flop backwards,
even after the squid’s mischief.
A barred spiral galaxy looks down like a bloodshot eye.
Remember Hiroshima. It’s August 6, 2009.

__________________

ALL THIS USELESS BEAUTY
—Jane Blue

I sit here gazing at my screen saver
made of photographs I took, that I love:
ordinary things, simply ivy in the sun,
its heart-shaped leaves green
and sharp against deep shadows,
and the fire hydrant, little soldier
refusing to go to war, letting itself be
engulfed in a creeping ground cover
of lavender flowers and the late
winter light; a yellow tulip close-up,
its center a lacqured black idea of petals.
As I listen on iTunes to John Prine
singing “My Old Kentucky Home,”
rain slides steadily down the windows,
surprising after months of drought
like tears. He sings “Weep no more,
my lady, oh weep no more for me”
in his gravelly twang, and I think
of Stephen Foster, who died alone
in the Bowery, with 37 cents
in his pocket and a note that read,
“Dear friends and gentle hearts…” How
he yearned to make of the minstrel show
a love song, and how he tried to live,
drinking that warm liquor. Then
June Tabor comes into the shuffle,
her voice resonant in the Celtic way;
with a slow plaint, she’s asking,
“What shall we do, what shall we do
with all this useless beauty?”

___________________

CRITIQUE
—Steve Williams, Portland

I am studying landscapes.
There is a fascination with yellow and red and setting suns.
I took my in-laws to a cliff on the Pacific
to watch the sun disappear.
In all the landscapes of that trip,
that is what impacted them the most.
Watching the day’s funeral is somehow comforting,
as if we are outliving something so much bigger
than our own little life.
For those few minutes, we are immortal, god-like
in the vanity of ourselves.
It is so delightful.

Here is a courtyard at night.
The bricks of the street and circular sidewalk glisten
in misting rain. Streetlights peek through small twisted oaks
while the building behind is caged in vertical ovals of light
by spots hidden behind a hedge.
Pale yellow pillars layer
under nests of twigs, glint
through milk chocolate stone.
Everything man-made reflects the light
including the water.
I want to take off the wrapper
and eat this place,
hope to find some almonds—crack open the shell
and smell the infant tree in its womb or coffin.
This photograph has redeemed rain.
Yet I cannot say it is good or bad or interesting or not.
Like a zoo, there is a poem here to be captured.
Without the man behind the camera,
this landscape would gallop wild and perhaps endangered.
But no, here it is, framed behind the plexiglass—
pacing, pacing, waiting for the sun.

_________________

Today's LittleNip: Thought for Sammie and Me

If I see change as loss, it becomes loss.

—Steven Dobyns

_________________

Jeronimo

—Medusa

SnakeWatch: What's New from Rattlesnake Press:

THIS SUMMER:

Join us Weds., August 12 to celebrate
Joyce Odam’s birthday month with two new books from her:
Peripherals: Prose Poems by Joyce Odam (illustrated by Charlotte Vincent)
and Rattlesnake LittleBook #2 (Noir Love).
That’s at The Book Collector, 1008 24th St., Sacramento, 7:30 PM. Free!

WTF!: The second issue of WTF, the free quarterly journal from Poetry Unplugged at Luna's Cafe that is edited by frank andrick, is now available at The Book Collector or through rattlesnakepress.com, or send me two bux and I'll mail you one.
Deadline for Issue #3 (which will be available at Luna's Cafe on
Thursday, August 20) was July 15; next deadline will be Oct. 15. 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 (clearly marked for WTF).
And be forewarned: this publication is for adults only, so you must be
over 18 years of age to submit. (More info at rattlesnakepress.com/.)

RATTLESNAKE REVIEW: Issue #22 is now available (free) at The Book Collector, or send me four bux and I'll mail you one. Or you can order copies of current or past issues through rattlesnakepress.com/. Deadline is August 15 for RR23: 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 add all contact info, including snail address. Meanwhile, the snakes of the on-going Medusa are always hungry; keep that poetry comin', rain or shine!
Just let us know if your submission is for the Review or for Medusa, or for either one, and please—only one submission packet per issue of the quarterly Review.
(More info at rattlesnakepress.com/.)

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 (include snail address) and I'll send you one. Free!

_________________

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.