Urban Rainbow
—Poems and Photos by Katy Brown, Davis, CA
MIGRATION IN MOTION
—Katy Brown
feathery thunder of ten thousand
wings lifting from rice fields
in the great north valley—
the cacophonous call of water birds
elating into grey morning sky—
fall migration swirling and sorting
into geese, ducks, swans, coots
—shifting and arrowing toward
ancient invisible pathways carved by
generations of birds when the world was new
like animated bird tracks, flights
of geese ungulate in morning light
swapping positions in the
airfoil wedge formation that brought them
here from beyond the wall of mountains
Contours
OUTSIDE THE STRIP-MALL CHURCH
—Katy Brown
The feral cat wears scruffiness
like a mantle—living a strip-mall-
parking-lot existence
is not all kibble-and-cream.
An orange tabby, his tail is
a little short and crooked; his coat,
grown clotted in its near-winter chill.
His small ears swivel constantly,
scanning for background noise,
sounds of danger. His gold eyes
watch my every move.
Although he sits a little away,
he seems sprung, ready to run.
I softly talk to him—
ask his name, remark that he
reminds me of Wordsworth
and Wordsworth II. He looks,
I tell him, a little like Jeanne’s old
Gus—named for the Theater Cat
from Old Possum’s Book of Cats.
My most favorite photograph, I tell him,
was one that my brother took of Gus
and Jeanne in the slanted light of their
Ann Arbor window.
Has someone given you a name, I ask.
He blinks slowly, moves in an arc
to stand, then sit a little closer and to the side.
After a few more minutes of conversation,
he moves behind a bush, slightly behind me.
People start arriving in the parking lot.
When I look again, the cat has vanished.
Inside, when the service turns to long, silent meditation,
I hear an insistent thought, “William. My name is William.”
Lunar-like Rock
THE FIRST LAW
—Katy Brown
Father Tim described the personality
as layered, like an onion.
You have to peel the layers
to know the man, he’d say;
but don’t even start if you aren’t ready
to deal with who you uncover there.
Not every mask conceals a prince,
not every prince is handsome to the core.
The first law of therapy:
do no harm. Never release
monsters you are not prepared to tame.
Never leave the wounded bleeding.
Yellow and Pink
Today’s LittleNip:
For what is a poem but a hazardous attempt at self-understanding: it is the deepest part of autobiography.
–Robert Penn Warren
Katy Brown and the Eye of Her Camera
______________________
Many thanks to Katy Brown for stepping in today with her fine poems and pix! Our usual Saturday poet, D.R. Wagner, is badly overloaded these days with several new books, his other obligations, and his ongoing health issues. So we’ve decided it would be best for him to take a “sabbatical” from the Kitchen, at least until the end of the year. Hopefully, he’ll be back with us soon! We’ll miss him, and look forward to seeing his new books. Check out his upcoming Storm Footed at www.coldriverpress.org/.
Anyway, Katy’s poems and pix are partly a result of a trip she and I took this week to Apple Hill—I’m so pleased with this shot I caught of her chasing the ever-illusive photo! (I don’t think she even knows that I took it…)
The Second Saturday Reception at Sacramento Poetry Center takes place tonight from 5-8pm, featuring the artwork of Paul Anderson in a showing entitled, “Under the Giving Sun”. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about this and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.
—Medusa
Mountain Flag
—Photo by Katy Brown
Celebrate poetry—and Veteran’s Day!
Photos in this column can be enlarged by clicking on them once,
then click on the X in the top right corner to come back
to Medusa.