—Photos by Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
SIROCCO
—Tom Goff, Carmichael, CA
The clouds come back, the nervousness comes back.
Winds might be much outdoors, yet are no match
for gusts in mind that blanch the grass and crack
mind-palms these siroccos erect, sap, trunk and thatch.
Trees poke till they pierce the mental sky-tent: black
leaks through the sagging blue. Through this blown hatch
come fear-streams, doubt-streams radiating slack
cold limblessness through every numb scalp-patch.
Worse yet, the mind-provoked war on the mind
soaks with such hot star-radiance the horror,
it apes the childhood paper window blind
whose glare spreads buttery-even its one tenor,
the yellow field of sweet derangement choired
when mockingbird song-prattle mimics inspired.
_________________
SYLPH
—Tom Goff
When he must think about her, long-ago sylph,
how she gleamed face to foot with energy,
how much it must have drained her, strained her, willful
young self-commander disciplined to live free,
relentless as an electric non-stop sitar
that tempers its bending song for immature men,
he realized however near her, how far
he’d have to stretch like Elastic Man to…spar
against her? Snap her back? Turn denizen
of some sweet-smelling underworld of act
of the love that was her, where the choiceless pearl
herself was cast with abandon at others’ feet?
(Where did it roll to?) He lacked, that time, tact
and truth to admit: he loved her slender whirl,
her élan while dancing lascivious, innocent-sweet.
[Percussion, notes shaken on her own archaic sistrum,
insinuate her back in and out of his system…]
Tahoe Rocks, Lake Tahoe, CA
—Photo by Sue Daly, Sacramento
BAXIAN THEOREM
—Tom Goff
The secret maybe lies in Robert Graves’
defense of Xanthippe*, countering rational
Socrates: the female inside creative knaves
impregnated by supranational,
amorphous inborn forms of the Divine:
thus, hymns to move atheists, filaments of the All
coherent to anyone who knows the Nine
were sisters. The ear turned sonar to the call
of one must receive the ensemble sibling blend
Bax hears. He knows how the lunar rainbow’s darks
can flavor the conventional downpour-day bend.
No telling Xanthippe-within-him where to seek sparks:
Impressionist lilac, orange Asturian, Russian
red-gold, sabotaged with cold sudden swipes of Prussian…
*Xanthippe: wife of Socrates, unfairly maligned
(see I.F. Stone’s The Trial of Socrates,
as well as Robert Graves’ essay in defense of her)
_________________
SEEN ON THE TURKEY CIRCUIT
—Tom Goff
Our mating pair of turkeys has our campus
Firmly in its wattled craws: the male
Gobble-voice looms up big as any grampus,
As he, the anti-Sally Rand of bale,
Fan-dances his glaring sway. But ah, female,
How you make mincing menace as you stray
From off the green quad’s placid-shaven swale
Onto the concrete paving, girl gallopavo,
A confident she-swashbuckler or she-bravo,
And pick your all-deliberate-speedy way
Up the stairs, up to the cafeteria landing:
What are you, black-plumed dinosaur, demanding?
After hours, or else instinct would freely work:
Your talons would scrabble across barenaked floor;
You’d pierce by raptor-keen scent each tight-shut door,
Pounce, snap, jerk neck, gulp. Oh, my Jurassic turk.
Zephyr Cove, Lake Tahoe, CA
—Photo by Sue Daly
—Photo by Sue Daly
BAX, PIANO SONATA NUMBER FOUR
—Tom Goff
The jauntiest of these, your terse opuses
in ivory; outer movements both motoric,
pulsating straight for the radiant purposes,
nerve-ending charges, subtle to phosphoric,
sensuous electricity—dare we say fun?
Let critics miss your wonted serious, “dour”
edge: For them, Sad stamps masterworks, not Sun,
however blanket-soaking grim the shower.
Slow movement: capers turn caresses. New,
this eerily soft fingertap on skin:
the pat-pat of a G-sharp pedal point
transforms hard keys to lips whose delicate sin
repeats as it lights on Mary? Tanya? Who?
(You—confuse two such bodies, limb,
tendon, bone, joint?)
__________________
Rilke TriCubed
—Tom Goff
for Phillip Larrea, whose invented form this is
You don’t know
love? Eyes, eyes,
soft petals
turned words, words
floating here,
there—where?—all
night-held: your
skin, caressed,
remembers…
***
His head lost
with his light,
eyelight. But
vision burns
down fuselike
deep in loins.
Makes his gaze
I-see-you
star. Change, now.
***
Panther, turn
bar-circles
in circling
bars. Tiring,
tight-wound round
core strength; numb.
Pupils fill:
Image, touch
heart, die out.
After Rilke translations by Edward Snow
Squirrel
—Photo by Caschwa
Cameras caught pop-star Elton John nodding off at Prince Harry and Megan’s wedding
Watching it I could totally understand why Elton John probably was “bored” into falling asleep—
Why invite a pop-star like him to a wedding and not even have him perform?
—Michelle Kunert, Sacramento, CA
Strawberries
—Photo by Caschwa
—Photo by Caschwa
THE PRESIDENT’S MIEN
—Caschwa
Let me introduce myself,
Hyman the Magnificent
founding partner of Hy
Krimes & Ms. Dameenurz
We are not, let me repeat,
we are not retained by
the President, not yet…
just lying in wait
Soon it will be prime time
to recall the clowns and
bring in some real legal
pros to help the ratings
“E Pluribus Unum” was
written to describe the path
that money should follow:
up the ladder all the way
It’s the economy, stupid!
Clearly, plans that redistribute
wealth to the poor only give
good wine to bad apples
It is in our nation’s best
interest to keep the money
in the hands of the privileged
few, like the dear Lord ordained
Gotta run, file some briefs
down to make them briefer,
everything up to code,
a very secret code.
American River
—Photo by Caschwa
NOW YOU DON’T
—Caschwa
(Inspired by Taylor Graham’s photo
of 2 beautiful horses with blinders,
above the poem “Losing Your Balance”,
Medusa’s Kitchen, May 17, 2018)
Horses, whose eyes face
side to side and so have
a blind spot in front, are
given blinders to help
them pay more attention
to what is straight ahead.
It is not perfect,
but it works.
Along comes the brand new,
fabulous, horseless carriage;
first a few made by hand, then
mass production gives us
skazillions all over the place,
driven by headless horsemen.
It is not perfect, and all too
often, it doesn’t work at all.
Our new sign of the times is the
driverless car, which replaces
the headless horseman with fancy,
man-made computer gadgets not
too unlike the ones that keep getting
human drivers into so much trouble.
It is so far from perfect that horses
are laughing their heads off!
___________________
Today’s LittleNip:
DRAFT BY MISTAKE
—Caschwa
It was bottled beer
that had gotten very old,
so the only recourse
was to save it in a wooden
keg and serve it as draft.
________________
A big Monday thank-you to Tom Goff, Michelle Kunert and Caschwa (Carl Schwartz) for today’s fine mix of poetry, and for Carl’s and Sue Daly’s photos! (Don't forget that Sue will be co-hosting Speak Up at the Avid Reader on Broadway this Friday night, 7pm). Carl’s “Draft” poem refers to my mistake on Saturday, when I got James Lee Jobe’s post all set up in draft form, and then forgot to poke the crucial “post” button—heading off to the grocery store instead, and leaving everything in limbo ’til well-nigh 11am, when my vigilant mother-in-law wrote to ask if we had died.
For Phillip Larrea’s TriCube form, go to the Calliope’s Closet link at the top of this column and scroll all the way down to the bottom.
RD Armstrong reminds poets, artists, and writers that the Lummox #7 poetry anthology and contest deadline is May 31! Guidelines for both the anthology and the contest: www.lummoxpress.com/lc/2018-lummox-7/. Lummox #7 is also looking for art (illustrations, collages, artwork of all kinds), as well as essays, reviews, interviews and (NEW!) Flash Fiction. There is a $15 reading fee for both the anthology & contest; this (non-refundable) fee covers both options, payable via the PayPal button at www.lummoxpress.com/.
Poetry in our area begins tonight at Sac. Poetry Center in Sacramento, 7:30pm, with Cynthia Linville and Carol Lynn Stevenson Grellas, plus open mic. On Friday, Speak Up: The Art of Storytelling and Poetry meets at The Avid Reader on Broadway in Sac., 7pm, with the theme of “Making a Home”. On Saturday morning, 9:30am, Writers on the Air will feature Victoria Blanco and Jesse Dewhurst, plus open mic, at Sac. Poetry Center. And on Saturday afternoon, Poetic License will meet in Placerville at the Sr. Center, 2-4pm. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about these and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.
—Medusa
—Anonymous Photo
Celebrate the poetry of the glorious Meleagris gallopavo
for photos and
videos of turkeys around the world!).
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.