Napa Frog
—Photo by Katy Brown, Davis
1. NAKED
—Patricia Hickerson, Davis
filled
with his eyes
her
hot secret burning her up
knew
his eyes
filled
with them
saw
everything
he
was all eyes
she
saw it all
caught
by surprise
his
secret look
her eyes/her secret
_______________________
2. NOW
LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE
—Patricia Hickerson
you,
you
who
have set me on fire
like
sunlight igniting the color blue
I’m
now a passion tree
poems
flaming along the branches
I’m
all my own color
red
hot
a
new ignition of words
holding
the lit match to the tree
you the ignition
______________________
3. THE
COOL-DOWN
—Patricia Hickerson
it’s
best to say it’s over
no
more fever
tossing
in the night
grasping
at what isn’t there
temperature
dropping slowly
enjoy
it
to
hear there’s someone else
to
look over your shoulder at the other
trees
not so green
lights
not so bright
sidewalk
harder than it used to be
you
touched and ran
couldn’t
take it
couldn’t
make it
cool
you, not so cool after all
in that brief minute you were hotter than hell
______________________
4.
MISSING IN ACTION
—Patricia Hickerson
did
you wonder where I was?
I’ve
been around
hanging
with friends at the corner
on
a stool at my favorite bar
under
an apple tree in someone’s orchard
smoking
dope in a stranger’s luxed-out van
walking
my dog at midnight along the waterfront
lying
in bed at night
dreaming
of people still to meet
places
still to reach
since you and I said goodbye
_______________________
5.
FALLEN ANGEL
—Patricia Hickerson
why
did I have the feeling
you
rode a Harley
and
belonged to Hell’s Angels
when
Sonny was president,
had
parties at his clock-jammed mansion
in
the Oakland Hills?
no?
not with Sonny?
not
on a Harley?
more
like a moped?
with
sticky wheels?
writing
poems on a notepad
wedged
against the pens in your shirt pocket?
now
I get it
that
was just the Angel face
you tattooed on my brain
Poetry Snake, Bath, England
—Photo by Katy Brown
SNAKE WALK
—Taylor Graham, Placerville
Sweep your eye from side to side,
every crevice in granite. The lightest
step might wake the dragon
in its den—black pit under rocks—or so
you're taught.
Watch how the second
girl in line
follows quick, as if sensing
a serpent stirring, uncoiling diamonds
on its spine. Or is that just pebbles
she sets skittering? Just nerves.
You've been told
what seethes in the dark under boulders—
evidence of ancient warfare
of the gods and nature, good against evil;
dragon-snakes who sleep
on heaps of gold and rubble, ready
to grab the next
little girl in line.
Read the old stories, how
snakes strike with fang and terrible
rattling tail.
If you spot a snake,
see if what they say is true.
____________________
Thsnks to Patricia Hickerson for a wee poem cycle—kind of a condensed version of a hot love affair—and to Katy Brown for some mighty fine pix. Yesterday I accidentally chopped the tale off of Taylor Graham's wonderful snake poem (it happens sometimes with computer cut-and-pasting), so it's re-posted here. Such a fine ending, too!—it's great to have an excuse to repost the whole poem.
The NorCal poetry community will be saddened to hear about the closing of Java City in Midtown Sacramento (see www.sacbee.com/2012/06/20/4575081/java-city-now-a-wholesale-powerhouse.html). Java City was the site of our three Poetry Marathons, in 1986, 1996, and 2006, spearheaded by B.L. Kennedy (see
poetry.about.com/od/livepoetry/a/sactomarathon.htm), and we appreciate their support. Guess we'll just have to go to the Homerathon happening in Land Park tomorrow night!
____________________
Today's LittleNip:
A pair of powerful spectacles has sometimes sufficed to cure a person in love.
—Friedrich Nietzsche
____________________
—Medusa
Java City
[for more photos of Java City, go to
the green board at the right of this and
click on the thumbs-down]