Friday, June 08, 2018

Enough Silence to Dwell On

—Anonymous Photo

—JD DeHart, Chattanooga, TN

Can’t miss it, unless you drive
right past it.
It’s noticeable and blue,
the big house where they serve
you delicate ice cream.

Did you know that ice cream
can be up to fifty percent air?
This is just like many people I
have met.

They say we are mainly
composed of water, but I have
my scientific doubts.
I am a practiced skeptic.

Problem is, I couldn’t tell you
how long the house has been there,
as I barely notice anything anymore.

—JD DeHart

I wish all creatures
warmth and comfort, save the ants
and other insects.
For them, St. Francis I am not.

So, as the temps drop down,
come inside my earthly
kiln of comfort and rambling
television shows.

Take a nibble of the special
trap I have left for you inside
the window—I relish only your
traipse back to your hometowns,

scenic vistas of the spiral dust
worlds you have created in the ground
and within my walls, share your
goods and perish as I dream.


On the window to the left,
the neighbor closing in.  Large
vans, gas grills, overtaking
with suburban life.

To the right, it was a vacant
lot, now overrun with chickens,
rabbits, a teeming zoo of human
and animal life.

Then there are the fast-moving cars,
children dressed as superheroes,
frequent deliveries, all of which
brings to mind:

What used to be life in the country.
The slow rumble of gravel once
or twice a day signaled a passerby.
Enough silence to dwell on.

(first pub. at Bluepepper)


which is to say not that you
are perfect.  After all, none
of us have reached perfection.
I am not the loathsome
reviewer #3 who wishes to strike
you down.
So, if I do find a literary quandary,
or verbal quirk, please respond in
kind.  I do not tear at the quilt
needlessly, as others sometimes do.

—JD DeHart


Today’s LittleNip:

                 —TR Hummer
—D.R. Wagner, Locke, CA

Like a country without
A coastline, it is hard
To ask directions where locations
Are marked by trees or the names
Of stores, or the size of a hydrangea shrub

That glows in the moonlight
Every June.  You must sit
In your car and wait for it,
Not disturbed by the crying
A baby makes through a single
Yellow window left open.

I shut the car off and exit,
Walking up the street to the bridge
Over the creek.  The water is busy
Below the bridge, not deep.
It has its own moon.

I watch the water for awhile.
Listen to my breathing.
The child stops crying.
A barn owl takes up that space.
I listen to my footsteps as if they were
Quotations from a book of koans.


Many thanks to JD DeHart for fine poetry to wind up this week, and to our surprise LittleNip guest, D.R. Wagner, for his new poem and photo (see below).

I couldn’t resist photos of ice cream to go with JD’s ice cream poem. Gluttony, thy name is Medusa. Well, it’s Friday………

Tonight at 6pm, readers from Susan Kelly-DeWitt’s hybrid forms class will be featured at Sac. Poetry Center. 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.


 —Photo by D. R. Wagner
Celebrate Poetry—and enough 
silence to dwell on.

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.