Turkey Mullein/Dovewood/Wooly-white Drouth-weed
—Photo by Taylor Graham
HE SPOKE OF WATERFALLS AS
SONGS
—D.R. Wagner, “A Sensitive,”
—Taylor Graham,
Placerville
But the lawn sprinklers
don't work.
Controller he'll never
understand, impossible
to program. This morning
behind the house
he found a rat dead; and
ground-bees
swarming—he tried to
drown their nest
with a hose but only riled
them up, his arm
still aches with stings.
Then, a snake
coiled in the hedge,
diamond-tweed, arrow-
headed—he killed it with a shovel.
His lawn is dying.
Drought. Just listen
to the news, everything
out of whack. Wars
and drive-bys, global
warming, economy
gone postal. Broken
sprinklers,
water purls up from
underground in useless
pools. Overhead, the
weather does
what it wishes. He won't
turn on the A/C,
but sits on the deck past
sundown, into dark.
He remembers rain, the
songs
of waterfalls when he
understood the world
and it was younger. Water
singing up
from aquifers, and
gathering
in clouds beyond horizon.
Water wild
as any winged, creeping,
leaping creature;
water singing in his
sleep.
_______________
MAY
NIGHT IN TUSCANY
—Patricia Hickerson, Davis
cold
ancient
farmhouse in the vineyards
only a
small woodstove in the upper hall
cold
up the
red stone stairs
into the
big bed
pull up
the blankets
stare at
whitewashed ceiling beams
cold
grab a
book Two Weeks in Another Town
crappy but
absorbing (sorry, Irwin)
cold
car tires
crunch on pebbled driveway below
there’s
the housemate
get in
here and get cold
find more
blankets
or you’ll
turn to ice
coldest
night of my life
cold
_______________
NUNS
GUNS AND NIGHTGOWNS
—Patricia Hickerson
when I
looked into the mud heap
of my
word pool:
giggling
girls
snuggling
nightgowns
grabbed
their guns
nodded
with nuns
injured
magnolias
merged
and mangled
snaggled
the negligėe
imagined
mahogany
neglected
negated
grinned and
grouted
nefarious
nights
mugged
and magicked
nudged
their names
nuanced
their nuggets
nodded
nagged
noodled
and kneed
needled
nigeria
ungrimed
and ingrained
nitrate
of magnesium
magnetic
the magnum
magnificent
the margin
narrowed
the smuggle
so
narrow so naught
_______________
BAD SPELL COMING
—Michael Cluff, Corona
Under the waves
spelling peace to Minerva,
the creatures hardly
acknowledge
the passage of a plane
trailing a banner for
a mega chain retail store.
Neither does a brass tower
any longer pumping oil
into the salty air
attract their attention
until a leak or two or
even more
starts to mingle in
intrusive ways
over the floor
with sea horses, sunflower
fish
and passing salmon
who become disoriented
on their way hoarily home.
________________
SIX SIXES
—Michael Cluff
Dwelling
between
cracks
grass
peppers
expressways
Yucca
sprouts
desert
visits
urbane
spillways
Sun
tags
fog
wins
at
noon
Tomorrow
looms
waits
for
next
tomorrows
Suits
ties
money
clips
deserved
sex
Sparrowgrass
hiding
hemlock
stumped
poison
platter
_______________
THE
DISKOUNT SPEL
—Caschwa,
Sacramento
Ther
wer 99 bottles of beer on the wal
Took
one down
rubbed
it
Up came
a geni with one lip
You
have one wish left
But the
government took it
As an
advance against promises
You
will make and not keep
Ther
wer 98 bottles of beer on the wal
Took
one down
rubbed
it
Up came
the geni's agent
Don't
forget, I get 10 percent
And
then ther ar taxes and tips
surcharges,
handling fees
You ow
us bigtime
Ther
wer 97 bottles of beer on the wal
Double-barreled
shotgun
No mor
bottles
No mor
wal.
_______________
Thanks to today's contributors! Carl Schwartz (Caschwa) tries to make his discount spellchecker work while Michael Cluff works on the SOW and Form to Fiddle With. Taylor Graham's dovewood photo is one of many in her album that appears on Medusa's Facebook page; check it out. Annie Menebroker (in the photo below) also has an album on our Facebook page, one from her trip to the recent A.D. Winan's reading in SF. (See www.sfgate.com/books/article/S-F-poet-AD-Winans-reflects-on-life-works-3721130.php for an article about Winans.) B.Z. Niditch, who sent us our LittleNip, has a new book out from Presa Press called Captive Cities; in it, he has a poem for Winans called "Captive in the City of Angels"; you can find BZ's new book at presapress.com/. Sandy Thomas, who took the photo of old friends (since the '60's) Annie Menebroker and Joyce Odam, is stoked because the reading series she co-hosts with Trina Drotar has been nominated for a Sacramento News & Review "Best of reading or lecture series"—see the green board at the right for a link to the nominees, and see the Crossroad Reading Series Facebook page for pix. And watch the Kitchen and Facebook for more from Joyce tomorrow, her 88th birthday!
Let's see—did I get it all? What a tangled web of connections today! Isn't it grand?
Oh—and watch for more about B.Z.'s swallows (la golondrina) tomorrow, too!
__________________
Today's LittleNip:
BENEATH THE REMAINS
(A special poem for kk
who appreciates the mission of the poet)
—B.Z. Niditch, Brookline, MA
San Francisco,
you summoned
the flower children
where nature
reached us
on our shadows
of a historic city
Tomorrow
the mourning doves
will return
with clairvoyant angels
by sea voices
where wan memory
still resides in saints
the poets on the earth
who, like St. Francis
still commune
with the swallows.
_______________
—Medusa
Joyce Odam, Annie Menebroker
—Photo by Sandy Thomas, Sacramento