Blink
—Photo by Taylor Graham
MARKS OF SPRING
—Taylor Graham, Placerville
Some creature left those marks—symmetrical
slashes of micro-sabers, talons or claws—
on Blink, my cat, whose instincts
bid him sneak out the door on a spring jaunt.
Every bird in tantalizing song, and sun
painting shadows that flicker and tease
like feathers about to fly.
After three nights and days, he came back.
Beneath each yellow-gold globe of eye,
a neat slice through fur and skin
as if he had a second, under-pair of eyes,
slits to spy the privy blossoming
and roots of things. Mysterious and mythic,
unknown. As if he’s looking through the secrets
of blood. After the spring, the pounce,
the prance, he purrs.
_________________________
PICKING PUPPIES
Some creature left those marks—symmetrical
slashes of micro-sabers, talons or claws—
on Blink, my cat, whose instincts
bid him sneak out the door on a spring jaunt.
Every bird in tantalizing song, and sun
painting shadows that flicker and tease
like feathers about to fly.
After three nights and days, he came back.
Beneath each yellow-gold globe of eye,
a neat slice through fur and skin
as if he had a second, under-pair of eyes,
slits to spy the privy blossoming
and roots of things. Mysterious and mythic,
unknown. As if he’s looking through the secrets
of blood. After the spring, the pounce,
the prance, he purrs.
_________________________
PICKING PUPPIES
—Taylor Graham
Open the gate, you’re in a swarming
that moves too quick to count.
There’s a crazy pup chasing a shadow,
and a runabout from post to corner and back.
Will they ever subside and yield a path?
But look, that one, sitting
eminent on the top step as if a statue.
He lets you patronize him as far as patting
his head. In fact, he’s looking
beyond you, as if to twilight groves
and visionary vales; as if wondering if
it’s his lot to lead you there, to show you
things you’d never find for yourself.
Open the gate, you’re in a swarming
that moves too quick to count.
There’s a crazy pup chasing a shadow,
and a runabout from post to corner and back.
Will they ever subside and yield a path?
But look, that one, sitting
eminent on the top step as if a statue.
He lets you patronize him as far as patting
his head. In fact, he’s looking
beyond you, as if to twilight groves
and visionary vales; as if wondering if
it’s his lot to lead you there, to show you
things you’d never find for yourself.
________________________
DISCOVERIES
—Taylor Graham
Getting ready for tomorrow’s trip—
halfway down the state, to deliver one
puppy of eight to her new master. Which pup
will be chosen, and not make the trip
back home with me? At dawn, the truck
growling low over gravel, in its bed
a mass of fuzzy squirming,
whining with want and wonder.
Concentrated pep. Each pup grows lighter,
heavier by the moment. Underfoot,
they’re a constantly changing map of sable,
black & tan or red. I have to watch
my step. Every one’s a distant country
beckoning to discover. I love each by name.
Scrapper, Scooter, Sailor, Sweetie-Jo….
I want them gone—all but one—
to new hands and homes. I haven’t
energy to train and nurture so many;
to know them for my own.
Just one puppy at a time, my time.
Getting ready for tomorrow’s trip—
halfway down the state, to deliver one
puppy of eight to her new master. Which pup
will be chosen, and not make the trip
back home with me? At dawn, the truck
growling low over gravel, in its bed
a mass of fuzzy squirming,
whining with want and wonder.
Concentrated pep. Each pup grows lighter,
heavier by the moment. Underfoot,
they’re a constantly changing map of sable,
black & tan or red. I have to watch
my step. Every one’s a distant country
beckoning to discover. I love each by name.
Scrapper, Scooter, Sailor, Sweetie-Jo….
I want them gone—all but one—
to new hands and homes. I haven’t
energy to train and nurture so many;
to know them for my own.
Just one puppy at a time, my time.
Spud Discovers Lamb
—Photo by Taylor Graham
FERTILE SOIL
—Caschwa, Sacramento
(inspired by Wordsworth’s “Lines Written in Early Spring”)
Public school provided me
What the minds of the
Best educators they could hire
Conjured up to be a
“well-rounded education”
After I graduated high school
It was clear that my schooling
Had missed a few key areas
Like an unguided missile
With no warhead
At some point there is the
Popular expectation that
A student will embark on
An upward mobile career of
Working to earn their own keep
To get a better view of that
Whole different world
Outside of academia
I enrolled in a junior college
Class about starting a business
Business borrowed real estate’s
Adage which said the 3 most
Important factors are location,
Location, location and preached
Growth, growth, growth
What I saw was our entire nation
Overtaken by oleanders
Hell bent on growth, all parts toxic
Those plants do make good barriers
But what if barriers are all you have?
—Caschwa, Sacramento
(inspired by Wordsworth’s “Lines Written in Early Spring”)
Public school provided me
What the minds of the
Best educators they could hire
Conjured up to be a
“well-rounded education”
After I graduated high school
It was clear that my schooling
Had missed a few key areas
Like an unguided missile
With no warhead
At some point there is the
Popular expectation that
A student will embark on
An upward mobile career of
Working to earn their own keep
To get a better view of that
Whole different world
Outside of academia
I enrolled in a junior college
Class about starting a business
Business borrowed real estate’s
Adage which said the 3 most
Important factors are location,
Location, location and preached
Growth, growth, growth
What I saw was our entire nation
Overtaken by oleanders
Hell bent on growth, all parts toxic
Those plants do make good barriers
But what if barriers are all you have?
_______________________
Today's LittleNip:
SAILING THE BOAT OF SILVER LIGHT
—Sri Chinmoy
Sailing the boat of silver light,
The moon-beauty is fast approaching me.
The sky is vibrating with sweet and melodious songs.
The birds are flying beyond the horizon
To an unknown land.
All my hopes are flying without any destination.
Slowly my life’s evening sets in.
—Sri Chinmoy
Sailing the boat of silver light,
The moon-beauty is fast approaching me.
The sky is vibrating with sweet and melodious songs.
The birds are flying beyond the horizon
To an unknown land.
All my hopes are flying without any destination.
Slowly my life’s evening sets in.
______________________
—Medusa, with thanks to today's fine, fine contributors!
—Photo by Caschwa