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Monday, September 16, 2013

Zero Apathy

Librarian Malcolm poses as Edgar Allan Poe
at last Friday (the 13th)'s Poe Project Film Festival
at the Crest Theater, Sacramento
—Photo by Michelle Kunert, Sacramento



WHAT DOES NOT REMAIN WITHIN
—Michael Cluff, Corona

Empty boxes now
flowing with leftover nothingness
gathering nil space
hungry for fulfillment
into wholeness whores
judging is answered by bulk
kiloed items of memory
loaded with intents
meant for biased or
neutered happiness
ordered into degrees
pedigrees, pedicures
quotients dividing
rational from inflating
sentiments tackled
tarnished and timeless
umbrella logos enclosing
vast hopes and hangers
wavering in the sebaceous
xeon holdings flopping
yoked amulets toward
zero apathy weekends
arriving when the endrizzled
beach flattens into civil
curves filling all but
dreams enclosed within cardboard.

_______________________

UNUSUAL DELAY
—Caschwa, Sacramento

Our household has
Welcomed cats and dogs
Which share one quality:

When they are hungry
They want to eat
RIGHT THEN AND THERE!

Bewildered and astounded by
All the freezing, thawing,
Chopping and cooking

After that wonderful moment
When the master brings
Home some perfectly good

Raw animal guts.

______________________

HOW MATH WORKS
—Taylor Graham, Placerville

In their late-summer famine, the sheep
have consumed the latches and connections,
nibbled into backup files and pushed
some switches. They understand nothing
but green grass and the hunger
that takes refuge at the back of the eye.
Subtraction, a wisp of smoke,
5 acres from 250,000 burn-charred; grazed
to bare soil. Dreams of rain
washing everything away. Familiar
faces from the hard-drive of memory,
a door that might burst open
when sheep or stormwaters mob
hard enough against it. Multiplication,
flooding the creek, ripping out
fences that once held, names and dates
you recorded so you’d remember.
Math or myth? Something twitches
quick as a lamb’s ear,
exponential as poppies in the field
of your mind.

____________________

QUIXOTIC
—Taylor Graham

I dreamed I’d make a cape of the white
north wind, snow to cover the fields
and let them heal; a full Wolf Moon
howling through a litany of loss
till it snowmelted into spring. Dreams
multiply their light, their vision
like mirrors. When I woke it was still
such a long time till winter.
If I can’t explain this to my dog, must I
live by the literal calendar?
My dog checked the wind that brought
no winter-news, only smoke
that pooled in canyons at night
and rose to a bruised sunrise.
I tried to explain visions to my dog,
who sniffed intently at what was
on the actual air, then charged
into the dawn of Saturday morning. 



 Poe-ish Costume at the Poe Project
—Photo by Michelle Kunert



THE BIG MOUTH OF GHOST JAMES LEE
—James Lee Jobe, Davis

Who is that tapping
on the window?
Who is that rattling
the doorknob?
Look!
It's Ghost James Lee!
He's come back to visit
from The Place Beyond,
and he means to come inside!
Shall we let him come in?
We could pour the him
some lemonade
and let him tell us
the secrets he has learned.
Or we could hide,
and pretend
that we are not home!
We had better hide.
Once Ghost James Lee
starts talking
we won't get a word in
anyway!

______________________

WHAT I WOULD SAY IF I COULD SEND A MESSAGE 
TO JAMES AT AGE 15
—James Lee Jobe

You're full of shit, I can tell you that much for sure. Most of
what you think is right, isn't even close to being right. It isn't
even helpful. Listen, here it is; be kind to people, and be kind
to yourself. When you screw up, and believe me, you will,
forgive yourself and move on. Forgive everyone else, too.
Don't carry the weight of it all! That's the whole thing. It
doesn't matter where you go, happiness isn't a place. All the
happiness you need is already in your heart. It's all about the
journey, not the destination. Walk lightly, and keep your eyes
open. And try to lighten up a little.

______________________

JAMES, WHAT'S THAT ON YOUR FINGERS?
—James Lee Jobe

Your body tastes of figs and olive oil, and I am here to devour you,
bite after delicious bite.

Your heart tastes of the kindness of strangers and of the faith
that only a child knows.

I love that, so I'll eat your heart last, holding it fast
in my red-stained fingers.
 
______________________

Our thanks to today's contributors! A confluence of Friday the 13th and Halloween is in the air, and it seems to be seeping into local writers. Michelle Kunert made it to the Poe Project last Friday, which was part of the Sacramento Film and Music Festival which ran from Sept. 11-15. The Poe Project, a competition to create films and scripts inspired by the works of Edgar Allan Poe, is a creative program hosted by the CFAA and the Sac Public Library, along with sponsors that include Sac City College, The Sac Film & Music Festival, Access Sacramento, and the Sac Horror Film Festival. In an attempt to merge the literary and the visual, participants had two categories of competition: short film production and screenwriting. Ten short films and seven feature-length scripts were submitted, and the winners were awarded over $3,000 in cash prizes and awards last Friday. Cool!

______________________

Today's LittleNip:

I wish to walk
through the weeds
of her internal garden
and pluck
with aplomb
what I
alone
will needle
when needed.

—Michael Cluff

______________________

—Medusa, reminding you that James Lee Jobe will be reading at The Other Voice in Davis this coming Friday night, along with Dr. Andy Jones, who will be hosting Poetry in Davis this coming Thursday. For details about these and all the other readings in our area, see the blue board (under the green board) at the right of this column.



Model at the Poe Project
—Photo by Michelle Kunert