—Photo by Ann Privateer
THE AND HAIKU
—Ann Privateer, Davis
—Ann Privateer, Davis
and can be food for deep thought
when stumped by someone
who knows the answers
Phishing
too much data
from my boss, the giant bell
pepper, I shall prepare to be ill
amble along the quai near the mill
until lunch hour ends then sell
my polka passes on ebay, hell
dancers move to any farmer-in-the-dell
direction unimportant, well...
let's have a shout out flash mob
to
begin each forwarded message.
_____________________
SNOWBOARDING
—Patricia Hickerson, Davis
last
winter at Tahoe
Banjo-boy
snowboarded with Koko-jo
up
and down the hills they bounded
curved
their boards like airborne kayaks
across
icy drafts
and
down the February chill
past
lurching trees
sailed
frigid valleys
white-topped
hillocks
tats
of wind-blown lace blotted their faces
joined
hands Banjo and Koko-jo
on
the back slopes
night
fell
or
was it a dream?
her
sheaf of long black hair
like
molten licorice strands
melted
against the snow:
she
lay back for pure joy
opened
her quilted kimono
invited
him in
Banjo
prayed to the moon
tossed
their boards down the mountainside
pretended they were on Mt. Fuji
_____________________
CRAZED
—Patricia Hickerson
they
were crazy about each other
crazy
crazy
they
did everything together
they
snowboarded they skied they fished they climbed trees they prowled bookshops
they
never did anything apart from each other they ran they jogged they laughed
it
was all for each other crazy crazy
they
touched fingers hands lips
what
they didn’t do wasn’t worth mentioning
they
did it in sunlight they did it in the dark
they
read books together they wrote poetry together
they
didn’t care about anything anyone else
crazy
crazy
they
crashed together they cried together they cringed together
they
cooked together they ate together they slept together
they
had a baby together it got too crazy the baby crying in the dark
they
screamed and fell apart
it just got too crazy crazy crazy crazy
______________________
SHE
BLOSSOMED IN 1925
—Patricia Hickerson
bless
Jesus so she did
she
placed her feet squarely on concrete
at
Broadway and W. 103rd St.
there
was a rooming house
run
by Mrs. Johnson
Marietta
put herself and her young son
into
one of the rooms
went
to work in the hat shop down the street
she
was 43 straight out of Oklahoma City
via
a train through the mighty St. Louis Station
she
expected to return again
after
her daughter’s New York wedding
but
her husband never sent the return fare
Marietta
was a beautiful woman
and
she modeled hats beautifully
women
came into the shop
tried
on the hats she modeled
hoping
to look as fetching as Marietta
she
was happy living on concrete
never
missed the prairie
its
dry heat had sickened her
so
had her husband
New
York was her city
her
money
her
happiness
she
blossomed like a summer rose
rising unexpectedly through a sidewalk crack
______________________
RECALL
—Patricia Hickerson
Grandpa,
I’d like to recall you from 1923
you
were 46 years old
like
to have a drink with you
let’s
go to a bar your last night on earth
I’ll
recognize you from your old photo
(unless
it’s one of Grandma’s brothers—Fred or Willie)
well,
come on, let’s have a drink
in
that old bar on Fordham Road
I
know you were living in the Bronx then
in
a rooming house
we’ll
have a drink
what’s
it to be? scotch straight up?
was
that your poison? then I’ll let you go home
your
last night on earth
this
is fun, sort of, isn’t it? sitting here with you
you
seem happy to see me
you
touch my cheek I touch yours
your
skin is olive warm soft Alsatian
your
voice is deep and gentle
you say ich weis nicht in
puzzlement
tell
me what you’ve been doing
still
driving that butcher’s wagon in East Hampton?
no,
that was several years ago
I
know you saw Grandma on Fifth Avenue last winter
it
was snowing you called out to her Elsie! Elsie!
but
she walked on, head down
didn’t
want to speak to you
after
all you deserted her 15 years ago can you blame her?
she’s
on her way to her job as theater cashier
let’s
finish our drinks
no
sense dwelling on the past
you
can leave now go up to your room
up
the stairs can you make it? you seem unsteady
eyes
bleary turn on the gas lamp
hey,
you forgot to light it, don’t you hear it hissing?
but
you’re already in bed with all your clothes on…slowly dying
goodnight, sweet Grandpa
__________________________
Thanks to these three poets from Davis for whipping up some goodies for our Kitchen today!
Good news from JoAnn Anglin of Sacramento, and she hopes some of you can attend either or both of two awards ceremonies, one at 6pm on May 29 in City Hall, 915 I St., 1st floor, Sac.; the other at 10:45 a.m. at the County Bldg., 700 H St., Ste. 1450, Sac. JoAnn is being presented with two awards from Sacramento City and County: she has been selected to receive Chair of the Board of Supervisors' Award of Sac. Metropolitan Arts Council's District Arts Program for Fiscal Year 2011, as well as the District Art Program's Award for Sacramento City's District 6! Congrats, JoAnn!
_________________________
Today's LittleNip:
On the way to Placerville,
a pair of vultures circle, wings tipping
in the bobbing movement that catches
a filament of air.
In shifting updrafts,
careful as acrobats with balance-poles
they trace the thermal thread of morning.
a pair of vultures circle, wings tipping
in the bobbing movement that catches
a filament of air.
In shifting updrafts,
careful as acrobats with balance-poles
they trace the thermal thread of morning.
—Katy Brown, Davis
________________________
—Medusa
—Photo by Ann Privateer